


Watch More TV

by ThePreciousHeart



Series: Stories From (Twenty Minutes Into) The Future [1]
Category: Max Headroom (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Television Watching, U2 - Freeform, War, Will They or Won't They?, Zoo TV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 60,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePreciousHeart/pseuds/ThePreciousHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theora must work out her feelings for Edison as well as work on a case involving an intoxicating new TV program called Zoo TV, full of hidden subliminal messages that could mean danger for the entire city's population. This is a sequel to A Clockwork Headroom, but it's not strictly necessary to read the former before reading this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I mentioned in the summary to this fic, Watch More TV is actually a sequel to another Max Headroom fic I wrote called A Clockwork Headroom, which is a crossover between A Clockwork Orange and Max Headroom. I'm personally not satisfied with the way that story was told, so I removed it from this site, but it can still be read at Fanfiction.net under an account with the same username. I don't think it's strictly necessary to read that fic before reading this one, but to fully understand everything I'd suggest seeking A Clockwork Headroom out.
> 
> Zoo TV, Mr. MacPhisto, Larry Mullen, Reggie the Dog/David Edge, and Adam Clayton are all inspired by the band U2 and their Zoo TV Tour. Most of the song lyrics are also from their songs, the exceptions being "Blue Skies" by Irving Berlin and "Feeling Good" by Anthony Newley and Leslie Briscusse.

       The man’s golden, glittery heels tip-tapped down the long hallway with precision and sureness in his step. He presented a beaming, ruby red smile to the outside world, simply shrugging off the questioning glances and approaches of the workers from Network 66, who were confused as to who he was and why he was here. “I’ve got a pitch for the network, darling,” he would tell anyone who dared to speak to his face, utterly airy and carefree. “Surely that sort of thing doesn’t come as a surprise around here, now does it?”

       No, it didn’t, was the silent reply. Every now and then TV executives would wander into the headquarters of Network 66, having set up a rare face-to-face appointment with its fearless leader, Mr. Grossberg. Usually such transactions were done over the videophone, but it certainly wasn’t shocking to have them done in person. Truth be told, the mere appearance of this new TV exec was not what was surprising the employees of the TV station. What surprised them was his _physical_ appearance, a swanky, smirking man dressed all in gold, the platform boots clearly boosting his diminutive height, who oddly enough wore a pair of red horns atop his head. The black frame of them blended into his black hair, so that a few passersby had to stop and make sure they weren’t naturally, permanently fastened on.

        A buzzer sounded, and Grossberg looked up from his seat as the front of the now-empty table, his eyes torn away from the ever-present TV screen in front of him, broadcasting his own network. “Yes, what is it?” There was no verbal reply, but he heard the click of someone’s high heels on the floor, and jerked his chin out as an oddly-dressed man entered the room, carrying a computer disc and smiling enigmatically. A worker was right behind him, and Grossberg sat up straighter in his chair, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he gazed at the man. Here he was, in the flesh- the man that promised to save Network 66 and get them the largest ratings boost anyone had ever seen. Grossberg sent the worker away and called, “Come in.” The man sauntered forward, and Grossberg reached out his hand to shake, eyeing his visitor’s shining gold suit as he did so. Where had he gotten such a gaudy thing… and what were those horns doing on his head? Ah well, the appearance of the executive couldn’t be helped, as long as he gave Grossberg exactly what he wanted.

         “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr....” Grossberg gave a quick glance down at the small screen by his side where he had downloaded the visitor’s personal information.

       “Mist- er…”

       “MacPhisto,” the man said breezily, slipping his hand into Grossberg’s and giving it a firm shake. “It’s a pleasure to be here. You’re Grossberg, I imagine?”

       “Yes,” Grossberg answered, letting go of MacPhisto’s hand and sitting back in his chair, clasping his hands together. If there was any symbolism regarding the visitor’s name and his horns, it was lost on him. “Let’s get down to business. What’s this new program you’re offering?” He stole another glance at the small screen on the table, while MacPhisto took a step back and gazed imperiously into Grossberg’s eyes, frozen in motion. “Z-“

       “Zoo TV,” MacPhisto said before Grossberg could even finish his sentence. He watched as Grossberg looked up towards him, jerking his chin out, and then started in on his sales pitch. “I’ve been developing this program for years- it’s my life’s work. It employs a simple method of subliminal messaging through its flash of random textual images to persuade the viewer to continue to watch. I’ve already tried it on test audiences, which responded well, but I would like to show you the pilot I’ve developed, to see if you would broadcast a program like this.” MacPhisto held up the large disc, and Grossberg’s eyes followed it as he nodded slowly, trying to process the information. Subliminal messaging…

          “Before I watch, I need to get one thing straight,” Grossberg said. “Is the technology anything like Blipverts?”

        “Without unfortunate side effects, yes,” MacPhisto said smoothly. “However, it employs the use of text rather than images.”

        “And it doesn’t have anything to do with addictive hexadecimals or what do you call it?” Grossberg stated, remembering the Whacketts crisis. It was the only time he had willingly let Network 23 get the better of him.

        MacPhisto gave a short, croaky laugh. “Ah, nothing of the sort, pet,” he simpered. “I promise you that viewers will get hooked on Zoo TV, but only based on the strength of the program’s messaging alone.”

        “Good,” Grossberg said, his eyes drifting away from MacPhisto to stare at the large TV screen hanging in front of him. _I don’t need Edison freaking Carter coming in here and giving Network 23 higher ratings by making our network look bad._ He lazily held his hand out in MacPhisto’s direction, jerking his chin out. “Let me have that disc.”

       MacPhisto surrendered it, and Grossberg put the disc in the player nearby and watched as Network 66’s scheduled programming disappeared, to be replaced by a black screen. The sound of drums- real drums, not drum machines that were used in practically every song these days- filled the air, and for a few seconds Grossberg was worried that MacPhisto’s program was actually a music video channel promoting the latest unknown band, exactly the kind of mindless crap that Grossberg was sick of having offered to him all the time. However, as soon as the electric guitar riff came in, which Grossberg had to admit was actually kind of catchy, the screen lit up with white words on the black background, spelling out a confusing message. EVERYTHING YOU KNOW IS WRONG. It only lasted for a few seconds before the message changed, words flickering up at every millisecond. It hurt Grossberg’s eyes to try and read each individual one, and so he sat back and let the barrage of text wash over him while a singer with a throaty voice much like MacPhisto’s presented a song.

        _It’s no secret that the stars are falling from the sky. It’s no secret that our world is in darkness tonight…_

          The words continued at a lightning-fast pace- URGE BEAR GLIB INSTANT SOLUTION DESTINY LEFT RIGHT WHO CARES HYPOCRISY ETC. Grossberg found himself leaning forward towards the screen, and nearly placed his elbows on the long table before he caught himself. He straightened back up and tried to maintain an image of aloofness, to not seem entirely interested and also to not look at MacPhisto. But the more of the Zoo TV pilot he watched, the more he wanted to watch. It didn’t feel as if Grossberg would be deprived without Zoo TV- not like the addictive Whacketts program- but he did notice that whenever he looked away from the screen, it felt like an invisible string was pulling him back, whispering in his ear _Watch. Watch TV. Watch me…_

The song ended on an ominous note. _“Look, I gotta go. Yeah, I’m running out of change. There’s a lot of things if I could I’d rearrange.”_ Following these lyrics was a screaming guitar solo, and words began to flash up in a single message, one after the other, in quick succession. IT’S YOUR WORLD YOU CAN CHANGE IT IT’S YOUR WORLD YOU CAN CHANGE IT IT’S YOUR WORLD YOU CAN CHANGE IT. For a moment Grossberg was disturbed by this radical message- he didn’t want any impressionable TV watchers to fall under its sway- but then, by straining his eyes, he discovered that words were flashing at a millisecond in between the words of the other message. All together, the radical message faded away and Grossberg made out a far better message underneath it. WATCH MORE TV WATCH MORE TV WATCH MORE TV. Suddenly the song ended with a crash, and the screen went black again, until a logo appeared- ZOO TV, it stated in bright red letters, surrounded by an equally red circle. Then the logo vanished and MacPhisto, who Grossberg had successfully avoided looking at for the entirety of the pilot, burst into applause at his own work.

       Stunned by the fancily-dressed man’s enthusiasm, Grossberg maneuvered his chair so that he was staring at MacPhisto at last. MacPhisto was smiling broadly, showing clean white teeth from beneath his unnaturally red lips. When he noticed that Grossberg was staring at him, he ceased his applause and angled his head forward, the tantalizing and somewhat transfixing grin still on his face. He looked entirely consumed by pride and expecting compliments. “Wasn’t that marvelous, Mr. Grossberg?” His croaky, aging British voice somewhat disconcerted Grossberg, though he didn’t show it. MacPhisto continued in a broad, pondering voice, “Will you consider taking up my program?”

        “It is very effective,” Grossberg admitted. “I appreciate the idea, although I’d advise you get rid of the message at the end if you don’t want the censors on our backs.”

      “’Our?’” MacPhisto stated, leaning in close to Grossberg and still not removing that disturbing smile from his face. “Are you implying that you’ve already decided?”

        Realizing his misstep, Grossberg jerked his chin out and muttered, “I was merely implying, hypothetically-“

         “So it is a yes?” MacPhisto said matter-of-factly, not asking so much as stating the facts. He held out his hand, and Grossberg realized that this unusual man would not allow him to weasel out of a deal. Ah well, the program did look useful, and its subliminal messaging techniques seemed promising. Might as well finish the job. He slid his hand into MacPhisto’s and gave a hearty shake, noticing as he did so that MacPhisto’s hand was eerily a different shade than his face.

       “Thank you for coming here, MacPhisto,” Grossberg murmured as MacPhisto pulled away and went to collect his video disc.

        “You’re welcome,” he simpered. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

        “If this program doesn’t boost the ratings, though, I’m removing it from the air after a week,” Grossberg warned. For a reason he couldn’t explain, it felt as if MacPhisto’s motives were more insidious than they were presented. Maybe it was the strange appearance and presentation of this man- ridiculous glittery boots and stupid red horns and all- or perhaps it was the radical messages on the Zoo TV pilot, with the possibility to incite rebellion, but MacPhisto simply did not seem like a person to be trusted. Of course, it was impossible to predict anything based on gut instincts, and Grossberg knew that no matter how sketchy MacPhisto appeared, the Zoo TV program would attract at least a few more viewers of Network 66 and would boost at least a few ratings.

        “I don’t think you will be disappointed, Grossberg,” MacPhisto said as he pushed the retrieved disc down his finger. “Not at all. As long as you start broadcasting it as early as tomorrow. Have you got the file downloaded?”

        “Yes,” Grossberg said, turning his chair back to face the TV screen and moving his eyes back onto the regular network programming. “Goodbye, MacPhisto.”

         “Au revoir, Grossberg,” MacPhisto called, already turning to leave, and try as he might to block the sound out Grossberg could still hear the tapping of his boots down the corridor and the strains of a show tune being whistled.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is Edison Carter coming to you live and direct from Network 23…"

The headquarters of the aforementioned network buzzed with the usual, general flurry of activity as they focused either on their tasks for the day or on the nearest TV screens. Off in one of the far corners of the room, two people quietly watched the current broadcast that was airing with intently focused eyes. One was Murray, the producer of Edison's show, his hands on the back of the chair in front of him and his teeth idly chewing the inside of his cheek. And the other was Theora Jones, Edison's talented controller, who was physically watching from behind a screen but mentally standing in the street with Edison, seeing all that he was seeing and hearing all that he was hearing. Though he was the one who had to present the story, Theora was working just as hard as he was from the comfort of the Network 23 skyscraper.

If Theora hadn't been concentrating so hard on the broadcast, the thought would have struck her mind- _it's like being there but without the danger-_ but because she was currently on the job, her brain had no time to produce words of its own. Instead, Edison's words filled her ears, allowing her to tune out her busy head and providing a blanket amidst the chatter of background noise that accompanied the network studio every day.

"In this age of information, where every fact of life can be learned from watching network programming and history is as malleable as what's to come, studying the past for cues on how to live life is becoming a lost art form," Edison began his speech, a series of little red letters in the bottom right hand corner blinking the word LIVE at viewers. "Some people reconnect with the past by talking to their parents, or their parents' parents. Some people watch broadcasts from nostalgic presenters, such as Blank Reg from Big Time Television."

"He'll appreciate that plug," Murray muttered.

"And some," Edison continued, "try to bring the past into the present, such as this new group of individuals whom we're going to visit. They call themselves Environmentalists, and their main concern is for all things green. Let's take a look."

Theora watched calmly as Edison lifted his camera and slowly turned it outwards to face the scene before him, settling it gently on his shoulder. So far everything was running smoothly, like well-kept clockworks. As the camera's lens focused, a group of people, no more than fifteen of them, were shown working in a gravelly lot, presumably somewhere in the Fringes. There were five wheelbarrows that had been parked in the lot, each of them filled with thick brown soil in which small green sprouts were growing. The picture grew larger as Edison walked forward, and Theora noticed watering cans in the people's hands, their bounty spilling onto the lot where the green sprouts were being buried.

"Excuse me-" Edison's voice sounded, and his hand moved across the screen to gently touch a nearby woman's arm, catching her attention. "I'm a reporter with Network 23," he introduced himself as she turned around, her eyes gleaming skeptically. Something stirred within Theora- the woman's outward appearance suggested to her that she was a Blank, or a Fringer in the very least. "I'd like to know more about your endeavor," Edison continued as she folded her arms. "What's your name, and what are you doing out here with all these plants?"

The woman groaned. "It's not an illegal action, is it?" she asked, her tone filled with a weary sort of _oh no, here we go again_ air. Before Edison could answer, she launched into a speech which she had obviously recited before. "We're called the Environmentalists, and we've made it our job to restore parks to the cities. Back in the old days people kept live plants in their houses, gardens were kept in back lots, and it wasn't unusual to see trees downtown. Now, of course, the city's swallowed all that up in concrete and television, and we're looking to take it back."

"I see," Edison murmured. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't catch your name-"

"It's Frida." She jerked her head in a _so what_ manner. "We don't mind having cameras here, as long as they're not giving us a bad name."

"All right, thank you," Edison said, and turned his camera away, approaching the small mounds of dead earth with a curious air.

"That's a relief," Murray murmured upon seeing the change of scenery. "I thought he'd never cut away from her face."

"Murray," Theora quietly admonished him. "Viewers don't have such short attention spans. The camera only stayed on her for twenty seconds."

"It's long than the average soundbite," Murray grumped, "and that's not what the statistics tell me." However, he stayed silent, and together Murray and Theora watched as the view from Edison's camera scanned over each plot where seeds were expected to grow, lingering on the working hands which covered the plants with earth and watered them for good measure.

"What kind of plants are you expecting to grow here?" Edison asked a man after he had finished with his watering can.

"This here section's for vegetable and stuff you can eat," the man replied, "and the ladies over there are planting flowers." He jerked his thumb in their direction and squared his shoulders.

Meanwhile, as Edison Carter talked to the people of the Fringes and his control team watched the broadcast with bated but peaceful breath, another group of people directly involved with Network 23's well-being were watching and scrutinizing every second of their channel's output as if their lives depended on it. And for all they knew, their lives did depend on it. They were Network 23's board of advisors, headed by the TV executive Ben Cheviot, and they convened daily on the very top floor of the skyscraper to watch both their programs and the ratings, and analyze how the two were related. Lit only by an enormous, flickering TV screen, the board took their seats around a long table and trained their sights on it, to spend the rest of the day debating on Network 23's popularity.

Right now the verdict on Edison Carter's broadcast was assent with the crew downstairs- things were running as smoothly as clockwork. "These Environmentalists are intriguing, but there's nothing threatening about their image," Ashwell said.

"I always say a human interest story reels in the ratings," Edwards agreed.

"Are there any inner-city dwellers among them?" Lauren asked, squinting at the TV screen. For a moment everyone clamored to see, and then Edwards shook his head. "Looks to me like they're just Blanks and Fringers. That's good- we don't want too much comingling."

"Carter is adept at telling a story," Cheviot said approvingly. "Let's check the ratings. That's sure to brighten everyone's day." The executives chuckled fondly.

But as soon as the button on the remote was hit to switch the view over from the program to the ratings chart, irreconcilable dismay fell across the board room. For Network 23 was at the top- in second place, right below their unofficial rivals, Network 66. To make matters worse, 66 had nearly a quarter of the amount of viewers that 23 had.

"Carter's show _always_ boosts the ratings," Ashwell murmured, like a desperate prayer.

"But perhaps 66 has better programming," Cheviot reminded him, perturbed but trying not to let it get to him. He couldn't help but think, however, of Network 66's executive, Ned Grossberg, who had once led Network 23 to glory before the shadier side of his tricks to get better ratings were revealed. Was this another one of his games? Setting the thoughts aside for now, Cheviot tried to dismiss 66's sudden rise with, "Carter's story isn't nearly as intense as the hunt for Alex Burgess last month. It would appear that most viewers simply don't care as much."

An uneasy pause filled the air as it sunk in what this meant- Network 23 was losing relevance. To have Network 66 be on top of the ratings game was too big a coincidence.

"Well, dammit, Ben, aren't you going to at least see what 66 is showing?" Edwards burst out eventually. Cheviot nodded and pressed another button on his remote, changing the channel on the TV from Network 23 to Network 66. A second later, the board room was filled with a loud blast of rock music.

_I took the money, I spiked your drink… you miss too much these days if you stop to think. You led me on with those innocent eyes… you know I love the element of surprise._

"What is this?" Ashwell gasped, but his query was swallowed up by the smashing guitar. The rest of the board was fascinated, too engrossed with the program to even answer.

 _In the garden I was playing the tart… I kissed your lips and broke your heart,_ sang a world-weary voice. Along with the song, a random flurry of text, every word in a different color, came rushing up onscreen, no word lasting for more than a second. FISH WHITE PUSSY GUILT EQUALITY IS FOOD NOT BUNK OF NOVICE GOD MURDER PUNDIT SKINNY…

_You, you were acting like it was the end of the world._

Which was an appropriate lyric, seeing as the board of Network 23 had completely abandoned their mission of simple observation and were now as beguiled as anyone else by Network 66's new program- but when they came out of the trance, they were bound to immediately search for ways to outshine Network 66's new program. To leave the program on until the song ended was nearly sacrilege, but its rapid images and blaring music produced an intoxicating effect on the board of network executives. They only returned to themselves when the song ended, a madman singing endless "La-la-la's" as the guitar wept and bled and the main message floated onscreen, all the lettering white now, in between a far more dangerous message-

WATCH IT'S MORE YOUR TV WORLD WATCH YOU MORE CAN TV CHANGE WATCH IT WATCH IT WATCH IT WATCH MORE TV MORE TV MORE TV ZOO TV.

With that, the song and video were done, and the screen went black, leaving behind a trail of shocked board members with an insatiable desire for all things TV-related growing in the pit of their stomachs. Dazed, it was only Cheviot who could gather his wits about him in order to switch the channel back to 23, where Edison was completing his story. The rest of the board stirred like flies trapped in honey, as if waking up from a long sleep. As predicted, the first words anyone spoke after viewing were those of deep concern.

"What about our ratings?" Lauren murmured.

Suddenly everyone was trying to get a word in edgewise, struggling against the heaviness of their tongues and the slowness of their brains to try and form coherent sentences that would describe the experience they had just gone through. Cheviot remained unfazed, and eventually called the board back to order. "This is a program the likes of which I can't recall ever seeing before."

"It reminded me of Blipverts," Edwards nervously piped up. "Subliminal messages were definitely being used."

"That's obvious," Ashwell blurted in, panic already rising in his voice, "but what did the music mean?"

"I… I want to watch more…" mumbled Tessier as if possessed.

Unconsciously, all eyes turned onto Cheviot at that moment, looking expectedly to him for guidance. It was under his order that the six board members would act, preventing Network 66 from wresting the highest ratings away in any way they could. Cheviot sighed, knowing that he needed to act quickly in order to get the rest of the executives to act quickly. He opened his mouth and began telling them a makeshift plan to batter down the hatches.

"There's nothing for it but to phone up Network 66 and inquire about the new program," Cheviot began, trying to stay cool and collected. He knew that most likely this was exactly what Grossberg wanted, and he would just flaunt the program and laugh in Cheviot's face, but there was no other way of discerning what was going on at 66. "Whether or not we get anything out of that, we'll have to get Bryce on the line next. He'll be able to analyze the program and tell us what the danger is." _If there is any danger, of course._ The program might be a threat to the ratings, but what Cheviot wanted to know was if Network 66 was using any illegal means of getting it to that position- subliminal messages, for example, had been proven to be potentially fatal when used in highly compressed advertisements. Coupled with the gnawing desire to continue to watch TV once the song had ended, which was reminiscent of the Whacketts addiction that had once ravaged the city, Cheviot could tell that 66's hot new program needed to be observed by professionals like Bryce Lynch, who could tell them exactly what ill effects it might have on the viewing public.

"Why are you bothering to call Grossberg first?" Lauren asked, one eyebrow arching upwards. "If we know anything about that man, it's pretty obvious that he's not going to provide us with any helpful information."

"We need to know more than Bryce can tell us, Lauren," Cheviot chastised her gently. "He can explain Network 66's techniques, but we won't know why they're using them or what the show is about. Getting ahold of someone who works for 66 is the only way an accurate result can be produced."

"But how do you know it's not what they want?" Lauren said- pointing out Cheviot's concerns immediately. "Let's face it, Ben, they're not going to give any information away. Especially if they know we could copy the program for our success."

"Hm," Cheviot muttered, glancing down at the table before him. "You're right." And yet there was the matter of finding out more about this new program that bothered him. For a few terrible seconds no one said a word or proposed a decision, which was bad because inaction upstairs meant lower ratings for the entire network. Then Cheviot punched the button on his remote that made the ratings screen show up again, and a collective gasp fell across the board room. Not only had Network 23's ratings gone down, due to Edison's ratings-boosting show having wrapped up soon, but Network 66 had gained an astonishing number of new viewers and were steadily on the rise. Cheviot felt his spirits begin to lower- not since Edison's broadcast from Bryce's room at the medcen had there been such a slump.

A second later he snapped into action and began to speak rapidly. "We must call Bryce Lynch." To deliberate for a mere strand of time longer, to observe 66's new program further, would have been poison for 23. As everyone else stared transfixed at the screen, Cheviot grabbed the viewphone's receiver and began to dial the number for Level 13, sending a wave of relief across the room when the image onscreen faded to black. After a few seconds of waiting, the phone was picked up on the other end, and the screen at the front of the room was flooded with an oversized image of Bryce Lynch's bleary, acne-covered face.

"Yeah?" he said, in a tone that suggested he'd rather the board of executives not interrupt him while he was working.

"Bryce, you're needed to analyze a new program that's currently running on Network 66," Cheviot said, cutting to the chase immediately. "Subliminal messages are involved, and we think there might be some kind of ploy to get people addicted to it, as there was with Whacketts."

"Hexadecimals?" Bryce's dark eyes brightened a little. "Do you want to duplicate this program, sir?"

"Not until we know what it is," Cheviot responded.

"Whatever it is, it's sure drawing the ratings away from us," Edwards cut in. Onscreen, Bryce nodded. "Yeah, I'll analyze it. Thanks." He switched the viewphone off, and it wasn't until the Disconnect icon had completely faded away that Lauren- or rather anyone- suggested, "Do you think there could be a story in this?"

As Edison and Martinez flew back to Network 23, the helicopter making a red dot on the map of the city's interface, Theora sat back in her seat and idly played with her fingers. She was waiting for more work to be done, for the ratings to be analyzed, for Murray to tell her that she had done a great job… and not in the least was she waiting to see Edison. He could take as much time as possible in getting back to 23, for Theora enjoyed being on her own for a bit. Not only did live broadcasts usually drain a bit of her energy, but lately Edison hadn't been all that welcoming towards Theora anyway. She sighed whenever she thought about what had caused the misgivings- a boyfriend, a lie told to protect her from Edison's ire, that uncomfortable moment when he had discovered the truth… Even though the events had all happened a month ago, it appeared that Edison still wasn't ready to forgive Theora. He still behaved civilly around her, but their relationship was strictly working, whereas in the past Theora had felt close enough to Edison to call him a personal friend. _If I'd known he could hold a grudge for this long,_ she thought sourly in spite of herself, _I wouldn't have become friends with him anyway._

But soon, she figured, Edison would come around, or if the emptiness grew to be unbearable Theora would confront him herself. At least now she didn't have to hide her romantic relationship with Kent, which grew deeper every day. Arguably it had been more exhausting to keep that a secret than to deal with Edison's indifference towards her now.

At the sound of footsteps approaching her workstation, Theora looked up from the allure of the monitor before her eyes to meet Murray, hoping for some good news regarding the ratings. With the first glance at his deep-set, brooding expression, though, she knew that good news was not immediately forthcoming. "What's up, Murray?" Theora called as he came closer; Murray only shook his head and gently moved past her to stare at the monitor's image.

"Edison," he called out, connected to the reporter through Theora's microphone. "How soon will you be back?"

The response came back as clear as day. "It should take just a few minutes, Murray. I'm almost there. Gosh, how badly do you guys miss me over there?" A smirk was evident in his voice, but Murray didn't grin in agreement, chuckle, or even roll his eyes. A grin expression had taken over his face. "I've just gotten a call from the folks upstairs. It appears they do… miss you. Quite badly."

A pause, and then Edison said skeptically, "What kind of a job do they want to put me on?"

"Edison, there's been another ratings slump," Murray said quickly, "and it's all been traced back to-"

"What, they're going to flip out over that _again?"_ Edison interrupted scornfully.

"Listen to me!" Murray hissed, and by his side Theora was shocked into looking up in concern. His thick eyebrows were angled downwards as he tried to control his irritation. "They've traced the lack of viewers back to one program, showing on one network. Network 66."

There was another pause, and then Edison, mollified, managed to murmur, "All right, we're on our way. I can see the helipad as we speak."

"Good," Murray replied. "Come down right away." He then glanced over at Theora as if waiting for her to say something, suddenly remembering that there was another presence in the room. Theora gazed back up at him.

"So that's what the long face is for," she said, deciding that if there was going to be a serious situation she might as well make some light out of it. A ratings slump wasn't nearly as big a deal as finding out that a seemingly-innocent man had deceived them all and taken advantage of his visit to Network 23 in order to rape their head of technology. That had been Network 23's biggest scandal to date, a completely unprecedented tragedy, and it had been a trying time for them all. Rating slumps, on the other hand, were easily handled- either current programming was replaced with more popular shows and time slots were juggled around, or the culprit network who was sucking away all their viewers was found and exposed. They happened from time to time and were all quickly disposed of.

Murray gave a heavy sigh in response to Theora's words, the sigh of a harried producer who was tired of having surprising challenges thrown his way, just when he was ready to go home and relax. "Apparently this new program not only contains subliminal messaging, but it's pretty much a muvid station," he said. "Cheviot forbid me from watching it, though, until Bryce was done analyzing it."

"Subliminal messaging?" Theora sat up straighter in her chair. "Like Blipverts?"

"Yes, just like Blipverts- apparently," Murray said. "I'm only going off of what Cheviot told me."

Edison arrived through the door just then, and two pairs of eyes glanced up to greet him.

Though watching Edison's actions onscreen for a living and working so closely with him in the field had led Theora to be able to read his body language and facial expressions to perfection, she wasn't sure what to make of his long, purposeful stride and flashing blue eyes. Was he annoyed that Murray had called him in for such a trivial reason? Was he concerned about the ratings himself, or did he just want to get this over with? Did he sense a story? With such an intense gaze as that, it was hard to suggest otherwise- though truly, Edison's gaze was usually pretty intense, no matter what the subject was.

"Give it to me straight, Murray," were the first words he said when he reached Theora's workspace, not even bothering to greet or give a nod to her. (More confusion came over Theora's reading skills- was Edison purposefully snubbing her in line with his recent behavior, or was he too concentrated on Murray's news to have time for an exchange of pleasantries?) "Gimme the details. What's Network 66 broadcasting?"

"We don't know," answer Murray honestly, and Theora could hear the cringing in his voice as he spoke. "All Cheviot will tell me is that it involves subliminal messages and music. He won't let me contribute to the rating pileup."

"Well, if so many people are already watching it, what's the harm in switching the channel on one more TV?" Edison declared. He strolled over to the nearest set and attempted to change channels by hand.

"Edison, no," Theora called out, her gut instinct reacting defensively. "Murray told me that Bryce is running an analysis on the program. We can't watch it until we're told it's safe to do so."

Edison's hand hovered over the set of knobs on TV, and he half-turned around, hard emotionlessness settling in his eyes. "What's wrong with it?"

"Subliminal messages, Edison," Murray repeated, stressing the last word. "Words hidden in images. Blipverts. Is this ringing a bell for you?"

A hint of a smile played around Edison's mouth. "There's no danger. I don't think you can call any of us particularly inactive." With that, he switched the channel to Network 66.

Almost instantly Theora was assaulted, unprepared for the visual impact of text flashing across the screen. She tried to look away because the sight hurt her eyes, but at the same time to music dragged her in… what music! It was a long, long time since she had heard what sounded like completely organic music. Sure, there were a few notable guitar effects, but the voice was left unprocessed and the lyrics were present, real, and clever- something which most popular music could not be said to resemble. The text was moving at such a fast pace that Theora couldn't discern anything legible from it, and so she finally tore her gaze away and stared at Murray and Edison instead, judging their reactions. Edison stared with an inscrutable expression on his face- he appeared to be trying to figure something out. Murray had been rendered immobile, his fear turning into a blank slate.

"Murray…" Theora tried to say, to get his attention, to make sure that he hadn't fallen under the TV's spell, but he could only watch further, hooked on this new program. Theora dared to turn her eyes back to the TV, and that was when she saw something she hadn't noticed before. In between every other word, so hard to make out that she had to squint, the words WATCH MORE TV leapt out at her. At once the pieces slid into place, and with her realization the spell was broken. Theora fluidly got to her feet and pressed a button on the TV, which changed the channel back from Network 66 to 23. The droning voice of a sportscaster replaced the odd music, and slowly Edison and Murray shook themselves and grew active once again, as if they were awaking from a long slumber.

Edison was the first to speak, in a tone that had lost its barbs and even its interest. "What was that."

Murray was still stupefied, and didn't regain his power of speech in time. Theora just blinked from face to face, a nervous sensation rising in her stomach. She didn't think this was a good reaction at all.

"It looks…" Murray began, slowly and deliberately. "It looks as if Network 66 has got us beat."

In one motion, Edison suddenly came forward towards Murray and pierced him with his eyes, forcing them to make eye contact.

"No," he muttered so quietly that the word could have been a threat. "No, they haven't _beaten_ us. We won't play this game."

He turned and moved over to Theora's monitor, plunking down in her seat and gazing helplessly at the screen before running his fingers through his hair. Theora glanced over at Murray to make sure he was all right before hesitantly moving up to Edison's side. "Edison, are-"

He snapped his head up to look at her, both eyes blazing. "I'm _fine,_ Theora. I just don't think there's a story in this."

Shock crackled through Theora- how could Edison write off such an affecting program like that, when he had seen firsthand what it could do? She opened her mouth, but fortunately Murray beat her to the punch, smoothly stepping up to question Edison using his most authoritative voice. "Really? There's no story? That's very uncharacteristic of you. I mean, this has elements of stories we've done in the past- Blipverts, Wha-"

"That's why there's no story," Edison harshly cut in. "It's just a retread of the same old things, Murray. You know, maybe Network 23 is losing relevance because we keep doing the same stories over and over, not because of some new program that 66's got."

"But don't you think it could endanger viewers?" Murray pressed. "You saw how fast those words were moving- they could have hidden anything in there."

"But as far as we know, they didn't." Edison pushed up from his chair and rose to his full height, glaring down at Murray with a sullenly set jaw. "As far as we know it's just a harmless muvid program."

"You can't just write off-" Murray began, but in a flurry of motion Edison moved past him and began to stalk away.

"I'm not going to play the ratings game, Murray," he called over his shoulder, pausing before he left. "Call me once Bryce is done analyzing the program, and then I'll listen to what you have to say." With that, he was gone, and Murray and Theora stared over at each other, Murray's composure and Theora's shock both dissolving into confusion. Even while their relationship had been cool at best, frosty on occasion recently, Theora couldn't remember Edison ever behaving like this. "What do you think's the matter with him?" she murmured, softly so that no potential eavesdroppers could hear. Murray shrugged and then sighed once more. "You should know better than I do."

Theora shook her head and looked down, trying to distract herself from the conversation. She couldn't tell Murray now that she and Edison hadn't been getting along very well recently. Explanations popped into her head and then bred on her tongue. "Perhaps he's restless from not tackling any major stories lately," she suggested, thinking of the Alex Burgess story and how it would definitely be Network 23's story of the summer, no questions asked. "Or…" A new idea came to mind, and Theora peered up inquisitively into Murray's large brown eyes. "It could be that he saw something in the program that made him irritable."

A loud, proclaiming voice happened to boom then from the monitor beside Theora, startling her and Murray out of conversation. "This is Max- M-M-Max Headroom here at Network 23 asking, if you've got bigger f-f-fish to f-fry than tending to your network r-r-ratings… _why'd you have to g-go and buy the bigger f-f-fish in the f-first place?!"_

"Max, what do you want?" Theora questioned, automatically seating herself in front of her monitor and peering into the depths of Edison Carter's virtual likeness. Max squinted and blinked, staring from beyond the glass into the physical world outside.

"It just occurred-o-occurred to me that a new sh-sh-show might help," he declared spiffily. "Specifically one with a ch-ch-charismatic presenter. _Moi."_ Max grinned, and Theora could swear she saw his teeth sparkle. "Come on-on! The people n-need a big laugh after that mess with Alex Burgess-gess, and who do _you_ know-know that can make people laugh half as well as _me?"_

"Max, we've been trying safe programming-" Theora started, sighing- and then suddenly stopped and dropped the matter, staring into the distance as the thought struck her. Maybe Network 23's problem was that it had backed off of tackling big issues after handling the crisis of Alex Burgess and his attack on Bryce. Assuming that the viewing public didn't need any more fear or stress placed on them, Edison's stories had gotten increasingly less threatening as he reeled in smaller fish, as Max would put it. Maybe that was how Network 66 had gotten to the top of the ratings with their nonsensical muvid program.

Of course, Theora didn't see how that explanation left Edison reluctant to go forward instead of chomping at the bit for it, but it was all she could tell herself for now.

"Hey, Theora-ora?" Max piped up from the screen which Theora was staring beyond. "Are you s-s-seeing anything? Going on a j-journey to the center of your mind-mind? Did s-s-someone turn on that Z-Z-Zoo TV program in f-front of you?" He paused and then added in his most ominously gleeful tone, "Do you see d-d-dead people?"

"Leave me alone, Max," Theora muttered absently, and only when her thoughts and Max's comments connected did she suddenly sit up, returning her eyes to the screen. "Max-" But he had zipped away, leaving nothing behind but a black screen.

"Zoo TV…" she mouthed to herself, and her brow furrowed, Nearby, Murray looked up and turned back to Theora now that Max was gone. A finger beckoned her to stand up. "Come on. I think we'd better phone Bryce."


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as Mr. MacPhisto awoke in his luxurious king bed with satin-smooth bedsheets and fluffy down pillows, he heard an unmistakable sound coming from his TV set. Heart pounding, MacPhisto sat straight up in bed and, hardly daring to hope, glanced over at the TV. What he saw made his spirits soar through the roof. TRASH SMELL THE DOLCE ROSES WHILE IGNOMINY YOU STILL BOMB CAN WHORE JAPAN NOW, all accompanied by one of the lightest tracks he had ever recorded, a gentle wake-up call. _It's too late tonight to drag your past out into the light…_

All MacPhisto could do for a few long moments was sit and bask in the glory of his achievement. He'd done it. The old bastard at 66 had done it. He'd pitched his program to the network, and the network had gotten him on air. One hour in the morning, one hour in the afternoon, and one in the evening, with provisional footage to take over solely at night if Zoo TV proved popular enough. Joy to the world! MacPhisto knew he was old, and aging fast, but this one moment proved that he could still be relevant with the kids- that with a little bit of molding and pinching in the right places, those kids, and their families, could become his army.

He was so happy he could sing, and at once a long-forgotten yet beautiful melody sprang to his lips. MacPhisto belted the lyrics out with all his might, giving in to the grand bluster of the past. " _Stars when you shine, you know how I feel. Scent of the pines, you know how I feel! Yeah, freedom is mine, and you know how I feel! It's a new day, it's a new dawn, it's a new life… for me…"_

Pause, wink one achingly blue eye at the nonexistent camera, and then continue singing.

" _And I'm feeling good."_

In MacPhisto's cluttered head, the horns and strings crashed in, and he reveled tremendously.

Instead of reaching Bryce up at Level 13, Theora and Murray were both mildly surprised when Tina Wilson, a controller who normally worked down on their level, answered the viewphone's call. Her red lip gloss, smoothed-back blonde hair and pencil-darkened eyebrows were incongruous with the shadowy surroundings of Bryce's cluttered experimental lab. Cocking her head, Tina gazed down at Theora and Murray on the other end of the line with genuine surprise in her blue eyes. "Hello, Theora! What's going on down there?"

"Hello, Tina," Theora greeted her. "Do you know where Bryce is?"

Tina jerked her thumb in a direction over her shoulder. "He's gone to the bathroom. I came up to bring him lunch, and… apparently there's some kind of dangerous TV program he's analyzing?" Concern was heavy in her voice, and Theora realized that Tina was worried about Bryce himself being corrupted by the film. She tried to reassure her. "It's a program they're showing on Network 66, and it contains subliminal messages. It can only hurt Bryce if he's watching it at normal speed- and besides, he's paid to do this."

Tina blinked, seemingly pacified but also surprised that Theora had read through her so easily. "Well, normal speed is certainly not what he's watching it at. It looks like he's got each frame all spread out over the monitor… it's really kind of eerie."

At that came the sound of a toilet flushing, and eventually Bryce Lynch came into view from the viewphone. As always, he was in a perpetual state of disarray- his clothing looked hastily thrown on, his hair seemed to have been attacked once by a comb but then given up on, and there was a strange white substance smeared across his face. He stopped on his way to the viewphone to hug Tina and give her a kiss on the cheek, and then plopped himself down in his seat to face Theora with his usual no-nonsense brown eyes. "Hey, Theora. What can I do for you?"

"We need-" Theora began, but then stopped herself to ask a question. "Bryce, what's that on your face?"

"Zik Zak Zit Cream," he responded, running a hand through his untidy hair. "Probably not the best product, but the only relevant one I could get ahold of at the moment. Anyway…" His fingers reached up to smear some of the cream around on his face, blending it into his skin. "Is there any particular problem you'd like me to sort out for you?"

"We were wondering," Murray spoke up behind Theora, "if you'd managed to make anything of Network 66's TV program yet."

"Can't you wait just a few minutes longer?" Bryce said. "Giving me too little time to compute could lead to inaccurate results. Besides, I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to be looking for."

"Theora mentioned something about subliminal messages…" Tina began uncertainly.

Bryce turned his head to look up at her. "Yeah, and Cheviot said there might hexadecimals hidden in the code, like what happened to Whacketts. But I've run a scan on the raw data and there doesn't seem to be anything encrypted in the file." He moved away from the viewphone and gestured with his hand, pointing to the monitor behind him, and Theora could just barely see dozens of small squares, each one corresponding to a different frame in the program. "On the other hand, subliminal messages are very prominent, as you can tell… but there's so much text that I'm not sure what's supposed to be relevant and what isn't."

"How did you get the program on your computer?" Murray asked curiously. Bryce shrugged. "Simple- I taped it while it was running. Then I broke the tape down into bits." His gaze focused on Theora again. "Where's Edison, by the way? I'd suggest either he or you come up to Level 13 to check this out. You won't be able to see much staring at the viewphone screen."

"Edison stepped out for a bit," Theora said, feeling an unusual conflict of emotions rise within her- she still wasn't entirely sure why Edison had reacted so indifferently. "I'll see if I can find him and send him up." She thought she heard Murray sigh behind her.

Bryce blinked grateful eyes at her. "Thanks. I'll be waiting." He disconnected the line, and the faces of him and Tina disappeared. Theora got up from her chair, ready to go out into the hall and find Edison. Murray watched her as she moved, his face expressing the slightest hint of disappointment.

"While you're up there, could you get Tina to come back to her workstation?" he said, and Theora stopped her stride to look at and admonish him. "Murray. She's doing no harm lunching with Bryce, and if she's needed her producer or reporter will ask her to come back down- not you. That's not your job."

Murray pulled out a fake glower, shrugging his wide shoulders. "I just can't imagine Bryce Lynch being in love."

"For me, I approve," Theora said. "They're very fond of each other." She then turned to go, and tried to make her thoughts turn as well, from the happy couple upstairs to Edison Carter, who probably hadn't gone very far. Yet she couldn't suppress a small smile when she thought of how kind Tina had been to Bryce in the days following Alex Burgess's last trial. She had let him room with her in her apartment when staying in his studio brought back bad memories of his attack, and took care of him as if she were his de facto mother. Of course, their relationship went beyond that- the attraction they felt towards each other was undeniably romantic. Thanks to Tina's loving care, Bryce was now a whole person again, recovered enough from his trauma to get back to doing the work he loved.

 _All right, that's enough of that,_ Theora chided herself for getting distracted. She stepped outside into the hall, her mind slowly discarding the images of Tina and Bryce and replacing them with Edison's countenance. What was his problem with the story?, she wondered. It didn't matter that the story was similar to ones done in the past- that would be caring more about marketing than the impact on the lives of others, and Theora knew Edison too well to even imagine he would do that. His desire not to "play the ratings game" was a bit more likely, but again, this had more resonance than simply letting Network 23 crawl all the way back to the top.

Theora discovered that she had reached the end of the corridor, and so peered out around the corner to see if there was any sign of Edison from either direction. To her relief, an enormously familiar figure was heading her way from the left, his brow furrowed but his stride relaxed. Theora stepped out to greet Edison, murmuring a soft "Hello" as he passed her. He muttered "hi" in return, and then stopped walking, instead turning around to look at her.

"Well?" he said after a brief moment of silence had passed. "I know you were sent out here for a reason."

"I wasn't sent by anyone," Theora replied sharply. "I came to find you myself. Bryce wants us up in his lab, to help us search Network 66's program for relevant messages." Edison's eyes darkened, as if a cloud had passed over them.

"So you were sent by someone…"

"No," Theora tried to explain. "I just thought it might interest you."

Edison only shrugged and looked away down the hall, his eyes lost and scanning the scenery as if desperately waiting on some kind of call. "Look… I'm sorry I wasn't interested in the story before," he said, without looking back at Theora. "I just think Cheviot and Co. are making too big a deal out of it. We don't know that there's anything harmful in 66's program, at least not without analyzing it first. Their knee-jerk reaction…" His head slowly revolved, his eyes settling in on Theora's face. "Was to notify us because the ratings are going down. Like I could care about that." Edison shook his head once, and then looked away again as Theora searched for appropriate words.

"Edison, you…" _You've got to stop being so apathetic towards the ratings? You've got to care?_ What was she trying to say anyway? Theora took in every detail of his face, the fiercely-defined jaw, the cool blue eyes, and suddenly remembered a moment they had shared once, during the Sky Clearance Festival. Joining in on the festivities, Edison had taken her hand and pulled her close to him, and they danced together, sharing the warmth of each other's bodies. Such contact had been as easy as breathing, and required no thinking, no dwelling on any consequences. But now, such loose touches would have filled the air with awkwardness. Though Theora wanted to put her hand on Edison's arm to draw his attention towards her, she knew that he would find the touch unwelcome.

So instead, she somewhat changed the subject by asking, "By any chance, did you see something in the program that might have affected your mood?"

Edison turned his head back to Theora, tightly shaking it no. "I don't think so. I'd like to think anything I feel comes from me."

"You'd _like to think…"_ Theora faltered and trailed off, and Edison nodded and turned away, beginning to walk back down the hall the way Theora had come. As she followed him, he began to talk quietly, under his breath.

"I'm not sure if it was the program that did it, but I definitely felt more… restless after watching it. More irritable. More willing to pick fights." He gave a great shrug and shoved his hands into his pockets, and Theora saw that they were heading towards the nearest elevator. "If that's the show's doing, I can see how it could be a problem."

Theora waited until Edison had punched the button on the elevator and said button had lit up with red light before saying, "So you think you can find an angle?"

"I'm sure," he muttered as the elevator's doors opened and Theora stepped in, ladies first, before Edison followed her. "Just give me a few moments with Bryce, and then we'll be able to make something out of nothing."

As it happened, Tina didn't need to be told to leave- Theora and Edison met her on their way in as she went out. She chirped a "Hi!" to the pair, and Theora saw Edison's head turn as she sashayed down the hall towards the elevator. "Who would have thought such a catch would be bagged by Bryce?" he murmured, a chuckle in his voice. Theora gave him a stern look. "Now now, Edison. You don't want to steal Bryce's girl away from him."

"Hey, I respect the kid," Edison said as he went through the door, making sure Theora was close to him as he did so. "Just can't believe his luck." Theora smiled to herself as she entered and followed after Edison, feeling warmth spread through her veins. Here was a return to her old relationship with Edison, the casual relationship where they had joked and jived each other without a care in the world. She hoped that this moment wasn't a fluke, and that Edison had either spontaneously decided to forgive her or had put aside his grievances for the moment because there was work to be done.

"Hey, Bryce," Edison greeted the teen as he slowly pulled his face away from the monitor's screen, readjusting his gaze to the three-dimensional world. In a cage near the monitor, Bryce's parrot rattled its bars and gave a loud squawk.

"Oh, hey Edison," Bryce said in response, slowly peeling himself away from the monitor to sit backwards in his chair. "Hey Theora."

"You're looking well," Edison stated mildly. He came up to the space behind Bryce and gestured to his face. "What's with the stuff?"

"Apparently Zik Zak's foray into dermatological products includes anti-acne ointment," Bryce explained. "Thought I could use some." He waited for Theora to squeeze herself into place next to Edison before turning back around to face the monitor and gazing at it with interest. Theora too couldn't stop herself from staring as the small squares that she had seen previously downstairs took on meaning up close. Each one, she could now see, bore a different word on it, and all were placed in seemingly random order. BONDAGE BABY FEAR ROCK WEAR SCHOOL…

"What's this you've got to show us?" Edison asked, and Bryce responded. "It's part of the program that I taped off of Network 66, apparently called 'Zoo TV.' I've gotten all the frames in order, but I'm not sure what kind of messages they make." He turned slightly to look up at Edison and Theora inquisitively. "I hate to say this, but I think this project is out of my league."

"Well well well!" Edison exclaimed, laughter breaking in his voice. "Looks like you're no longer the big shot you thought you were, Bryce."

"It's only because none of the words seem to form a pattern," he retorted indignantly. "Normally there'd be one intact phrase hidden within the image, but this program is _dense."_

"It's fine," Theora reassured Bryce, and almost reached out to touch his shoulder before thinking that might make him uncomfortable and stopping herself. "We'll take a gander at it and see if we can't decipher anything."

"Be my guest," Bryce said, clicking on one of the frames to make it fill the entire screen. "You two probably know more about common phrases than I do."

They set to work, Bryce clicking through each frame one at a time and Edison and Theora peering intently at each word, trying to connect them with what they had seen before. At first nothing made sense- RADIOACTIVE THE ROAR FIRE LSD- but then Theora began to see a certain abundance of words, and halted the act at once to point them out. "Wait…" Theora murmured, and Bryce slowed his rapid clicking. "Bryce, can you go back a few frames? I think I see the pattern you were looking for."

"As you wish," Bryce replied, and dutifully clicked backwards until Theora told him to stop. He then began to very slowly click forward, and Theora read each word out loud.

"Work, guilt, guilt, guilt, blackmail… is, is, is… survival, not, not, not… fatty, of, of, of, death… candy, God." She looked over at Edison, who gaze impassively back. " _'Guilt is not of God._ '"

"Guilt is not of God?" Edison whistled and leaned in to the screen. "That's a pretty lofty statement to make on network TV."

"Keep going," Theora urged. "I sense a pattern coming up soon."

Bryce nodded and kept clicking, and Theora kept reading.

"Rejoice, speed, tread, softly…" She blinked. " _Tread softly._ Survive, solution, destiny, hype… condom…" Fortunately for her, Bryce was too sheltered to make mention of the word, and Edison kept his mouth shut. "Mock, mock, mock, tutti, the, the, the, ignorant- hang on. Devil, Devil, Devil… recycle, and, and, and… change, he, he, he, travel, will, will, will, urge, flee, flee, flee, left, from, from, from, right, thee. _Mock the Devil and he will flee from thee."_

There was a brief silence as the message sunk in and took effect. _Guilt is not of God. Mock the Devil and he will flee from thee. Guilt is not of God… mock the Devil and he will flee…_

"There seems to be a religious slant," Edison murmured. "God, Devil… these are powerful words."

Theora nodded tightly, her mind already far away, and then asked Bryce, "Can you run the tape you made, Bryce? I want to know what sort of effects these messages have on us."

Bryce nodded wordlessly, and Theora and Edison waited for him to put the tape into the player before watching as the words crawled across the screen, followed by a pounding, driving beat. Run at normal speed, the tape was like an affront to all the senses, and Theora slowly felt her brain grow unhinged as she watched the words flash past. Not even knowing what she was looking for could prevent the madness from coming on. All the while, a voice sang slyly, " _A man will rise and a man will fall on the sheer face of love like a fly on a wall. It's no secret at all."_

NAPALM SWELL COUNTRY HYPOCRISY INEVITABLE… The more Theora watched, the more she had the sense of being swallowed up inside the music, never to return. She felt the words and the lyrics fill her bones and puff her stomach out with pride. And suddenly… suddenly all of the energy that was directed to her solar plexus went shooting, skyrocketing up to her head. She felt herself inflate like a balloon, transforming into something much more high and mighty than she really was. She had the very real, very visceral sensation of being bound by chains made of aluminum foil, of her body vibrating beneath the deadened skin, of being able to shuck both prisons off of her and become a powerfully inhuman creature made of light. She wanted the world to fall at her feet, and she also wanted to want nothing, to not trouble herself with the minor quibbles of mortal life.

Suddenly the words WATCH MORE TV began to flash on the screen, and Theora emitted a gasp, which quickly drew her back to the real world. She turned away and hugged herself, shutting her eyes tightly, wanting to warn Edison and Bryce but not being able to. Despite none of them living a sedentary lifestyle, it was hard not to assume that it would all end in a Blipverts-esque mess.

 _Look, I gotta go, yeah, I'm running out of change. There's a lot of things if I could I'd rearrange._ Then the song was over, after a brief musical interlude, and Theora pried her eyes open to witness Bryce staring shell-shocked at the screen of his monitor, his fingers rigid against the handles on his chair.

Theora found her voice. "You alright, Bryce?"

"…Wow," was all he said, half-whispering the word. "That was… great. I feel…" He coughed. "I felt so _powerful."_

"Better than Neurostim?" Edison whispered suddenly, and Theora turned to the side to see him tensed up, his eyes boring into the monitor even while his words were directed to Bryce.

"Yes," Bryce replied in a quiet voice. "Better than Neurostim… although, there's some… pain in it, too…" His tone was wondering, trying to uncover every strand of emotion.

"I don't like it," Edison muttered acridly, and smoothly turned to stalk away, towards the door. Theora followed him with her eyes, the Zoo TV-induced high starting to wear off.

"Edison, where are you going?" Every part of Theora felt new, rubbed raw, open to the world. She took a step forward, confusion overwhelming every pore. Edison made it to the door, but he hesitated, and that gave Theora enough time to make her way to his side and unthinkingly taking hold of his arm. He reacted as if a bee had stung him.

"Get your hands off me!" Edison spun around and Theora took a surprised step back, in fear of the fire in his eyes. He was positively smoldering, his body quivering with suppressed energy that was just dying to be released. Slowly, Theora began to back away, before softly murmuring, "Calm down, Edison. What's gotten into you?"

"I want you to leave me alone," Edison growled harshly, clenching his hands into fists and jamming them into his pockets. "Both of you."

Theora looked over to Bryce, who was still sitting transfixed at the monitor, and asked, "Could that program have anything to do with Edison's reaction?"

Slowly, Bryce blinked his eyes under his glasses several times, as if getting a hang of seeing properly again, and inclined his head. "It could be… Of course it all depends on what sort of messages stuck with him." He spoke professionally, but Theora could hear stress hidden beneath his voice, and when he raised a hand to push back his brown hair Theora saw it tremble a bit. Whatever Bryce had gotten out of Zoo TV was not as good as he claimed it was.

"I don't care about messages, Bryce," Edison spoke up tiredly from his distance at the corner of the room, sounding fed up with the whole day. "I just want to get this over with."

"You don't care…" Theora whispered, and frowned. This was the second time today Edison had claimed about not caring for something, and both times were after he had watched Zoo TV. Her brain sparked.

"Edison," she said, "you don't really mean that. It's just the program affecting you."

"What?" Edison scoffed. "I know what I feel, Theora. I really don't care what the messages say. This isn't a story, this is just… Network 23 sticking its noses where they shouldn't go." He once again turned towards the door, but it was Bryce who spoke up next.

"Edison, I think what Theora's saying is true. The messages affected your mood. It did the same for me too." He had regained his composure and was now flexing his fingers together, staring quizzically over at Edison. Edison had turned when his name was spoken, and stared back, but he didn't respond.

"And for me," Theora added in a small voice. "I felt like I wanted… I wanted to take over the world."

Edison's eyes moved onto Theora, and then he came forward again at last, moving over to the monitor and standing behind it to look at the faded screen.

"How long does each frame last?" he asked. "One second?"

"Yes," Bryce replied.

Edison nodded and continued to peer at the screen, deep in thought. "So each word would appear onscreen for one second, except for the ones relevant to the message, which appear in three frames… meaning they're seen for three seconds."

Bryce smacked his forehead. "I can't believe I didn't think of that!"

"And the messages are important," Theora said. "We must have gotten such strong reactions because we were standing right in front of the screen and our entire attention was focused on it."

"But what do the messages mean?" Edison wondered, trying to puzzle it out for himself. "Mock the Devil and he will flee from thee…"

"I think we'd better trace the original program," Theora said. "Find out who developed it and who sold it to Network 66. It looks like a job for you, Edison."

She fearfully wondered whether or not Edison was back to his old, deeply-caring self, but as soon as he nodded she knew that he was all right. "Okay. We need to get on this right now." He reached out to gently pat Bryce's shoulder. "It was great seeing you up here. We've got to get going."

"Feel free to visit anytime," Bryce piped up as Theora and Edison began to hustle out the door. "I'm always willing to help out."

When the elevator arrived and opened its door, Edison stepped back and gestured with his arm, meaning for Theora to get inside before him. She did, but sighed as she did so.

"What's the matter?" Edison asked, catching the look in her eye as he entered the elevator himself. "I thought you liked being treated like royalty."

"That lifestyle is not for me." Theora grinned disapprovingly. "I do appreciate you trying to be a gentleman, but I'm no delicate flower."

"Hey, I know what you're made of," Edison said. "And it's certainly not sugar and spice and everything nice." His eyebrows angled upward humorously as Theora smirked up at him. "Not all of it anyway."

"Good to know," Edison murmured, and his hand lightly rested against the small of Theora's back. Gently, she shook him off.

The elevator door opened at that point, and as the two stepped back onto their level Theora sensed that Edison was watching her. She ignored the feel of his eyes on her skin, and it wasn't until they were halfway down the hall that he spoke up, as she wasn't going to say anything. However, what he said was not the apology she expected. "I talked with your brother last month."

"Shawn?" Theora glanced over at Edison, unable to hide her surprise. "He didn't tell me he'd spoken to you recently the last time we talked."

"There wasn't much he would have told you about," Edison said. He took a deep breath. "It was on the day of Alex Burgess's trial on _You The Jury._ After the show, I… I walked out. I'm sure you remember."

Theora nodded, indeed remembering painfully how she, Bryce, Tina, and Murray had gone out to a nice restaurant to celebrate wrapping up the Alex Burgess story, but though even Max had popped in a few times to partake in the revelries, his human counterpart had been noticeably missing. She had just assumed that Edison went home, though- not to a place where he had met up with her brother.

"I was at a bar downtown," Edison said, "and I saw your brother there. We got talking, and… well, he gave me some important advice. He told me not to make the same mistake that he made in regards to you. He told me not to hold anything against you that could get in the way of a good relationship."

Not sure how to react to this news, Theora blinked her long lashes and crossed her arms, realizing that she and Edison had stopped walking. They were a foot away from the door that would take them back to their workstation, but neither were eager to cross that line.

"So, I hereby end this silence now," Edison said, and gave a funny smile. "Life's too short to hold grudges. I'm sorry for the way I've behaved around you recently- I promise I'll try to be more positive." He began to lift a hand as if to offer shaking on it, before choosing a different option and letting it fall.

After a second, Theora found her voice. "Positive about what?"

He exhaled, and glanced quickly up at the ceiling before replying. "Positive about you, and… and your decisions. I mean… I mean, it did hurt me, Theora, when you lied to me about seeing someone. But I can understand why you would do that."

"After what happened last time…" Theora murmured, remembering Edison stumbling across the aftermath of her date with Ted. Now that had been a short-lived relationship, but Edison had gotten jealous enough to snoop around in Theora's personal files and then launch barbed attacks at her throughout the day.

She looked up and made eye contact with Edison, brown meeting blue. "Kent has been very good to me, and I'm perfectly happy in a relationship with him. I suppose that's what you wanted to hear."

"I would have wanted to hear that he was abusing you as long as it was the truth," Edison said. Theora arched one eyebrow, and he amended his statement- "I mean, I'd have preferred any truth to one lie."

"I understand." She wanted to sigh but couldn't, not in the middle of a conversation with Edison. "I hope you know that what I do in my personal life is none of your business, though."

"But you'll tell me anything if I inquire about it?" Edison pressed.

"That depends." She suddenly found herself smiling with mirthful humor. "I'm not, for example, going to tell you all the details about what Kent and I did after dinner last night, but as long as you don't get nosy I'm open to answering any questions."

"Good." Edison's eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled. "And I won't ask you any more about us." With that, he walked off and entered the doorway, leaving Theora standing behind in his wake, pondering over the meaning of that last sentence.

 _He's still attracted to me._ Of course, it had always been a known fact, but Theora had never let Edison's admiration of her get in the way of their true friendship underneath. It was only until he had started putting moves on her while she was in a relationship that she had had to tell him off. Though the pretense for telling him off was different now that Edison knew she was in a relationship, Theora's decision remained the same. She would not sleep with Edison, not because he wanted to and definitely not in order to advance her career. If their relationship ever deepened in the far-off future, she would naturally go along with it, but such things were too complicated for her to imagine, and so she preferred to stick with the present and Kent for the time being.

Expelling the sigh that she had pent up during her conversation, Theora turned and made her way back into the room, ready to face the challenge of a new story.

Ever since that moment of beautiful, swelling pride when MacPhisto had woken up and discovered Zoo TV to be launched, he had drifted about his one-story house like a feather borne on a breeze. The lovely music that he had helped create blared from the one TV set he owned, which was displayed prominently in the middle of the room, close enough for him to see it every morning in bed when he opened his eyes. The bed was technically in the main room, but it was hidden by an unusual wall structure that carved out an arch, obscuring the bedroom area from view of visitors. Usually MacPhisto would have turned on the faux glass player piano and listened to it rattle out old melodies over watching TV, but now he was too excited and spent the better part of the day floating across the floor, basking in the glow of the program that he had invented all by himself. With luck and a little bit of work, soon everyone would be watching it- everyone that mattered, anyway.

The rest of the day- the times when Zoo TV wasn't what Network 66 was airing- was spent phoning up his bandmates and everyone else who had worked with developing the program to simper down the line about how wonderful a job they all had done. Viewphones were a constant struggle in MacPhisto's life, though, and he hated pretending to be sincere. It was one thing to disguise the emotion in one's voice- it was another to change one's entire body language. But then, MacPhisto was an actor, and he had become quite adept at this sort of thing over time. What a shame that the phones of the good old days were no longer used, though- viewphones couldn't be decorated with glitter and look decent. Such a thing was nigh impossible.

The last call MacPhisto made that day was a special one, an invitation for his girl Frances to come over and celebrate Zoo TV being put on the air. Frances hadn't helped with any of the development, but she was MacPhisto's greatest inspiration and muse, and he could hardly wait to share his excitement with her. Sure enough, she arrived just as the afternoon turned to evening, as MacPhisto had told her to do. She was dressed in drag when he answered the door, a clever disguise against those who might want to violently take over MacPhisto's property. A black men's suit and binder underneath concealed her feminine attributes, and though her orange hair was short enough to pass for a man's Frances wore a fedora anyway to hide it. Her face was a bit of a giveaway- it was too angular and the lips were too full to pass as male, as well as her skin being powdered white (only a vain woman would use such cosmetics; MacPhisto himself preferred paint)- but even from her stride it wasn't immediately apparent what gender she was. Frances was androgynous, and that was the way MacPhisto liked them. He shut the door behind her and took the paper bag from her hands as she removed her hat and jacket.

"Ah, and what's this then?" he intoned, though he knew full well what it was.

"Wine," Frances answered, slipping out of her shoes as well. "Is this really Zoo TV?" She gestured to the TV set, where Zoo TV had just begun its evening block, but MacPhisto was too absorbed in removing the bottle of wine from its bag and then hastening to get a corkscrew to answer.

"Just sit back and enjoy yourself, darling," he called over his shoulder, placing the bottle of wine on his kitchen-area counter. "I'll be needing you very shortly." The cork went _pop,_ and MacPhisto filled two glasses before coming over to Frances and handing her one, which she gulped down eagerly as if it were water. MacPhisto took dainty, cultured sips as he went over and turned the lights down low.

"Now, madam, shall we begin?" He came over and extended one long arm towards Frances, and she got up from her seat and clasped his hand tightly.

"Always," she whispered before sinking her face into the gold lame.

They danced together, moving to the slow and tantalizing beat of the song, one of MacPhisto's crowning achievements. _Love is blindness, I don't want to see. Won't you wrap the night around me? Take my heart… love is blindness._ The one regret MacPhisto had was that it wasn't a waltz. But then again, he and Frances had had their share of waltzes, several times over. Even the words onscreen moved slowly, placed against the backdrop of a star map, in time to the sensual dance that Frances and MacPhisto took part in. As her hands reached under his gold jacket, a shudder rippled through his body. His fingers began to rub against her smooth legs, obnoxiously hidden beneath a layer of menswear.

It wasn't until the next song started- "Even Better Than The Real Thing," right on cue- that MacPhisto and Frances got serious. Clothing was scattered, and the dance took on a grinding, bumping quality, full of plenty of yelps, laughter, and ass-smacking. All the while, a hungry guitar riff yowled. _Give me one more chance, and I'm gonna make you sing… Give me half a chance to ride on the waves that you bring._

Once Frances was entirely naked, MacPhisto disentangled himself from her embrace- what a hard thing to do!- and went back over to the paper bag she had brought, rifling around inside of it until he found what he wanted. He came back to Frances and made her face the wall and slip on her gloves while he tied the black blindfold around her eyes. Then, as she braced herself, he loosened his pants and asked her the eternal words. "Are you ready?"

"Always," she whispered breathlessly. "Always, always, always."

"Good," MacPhisto murmured, smiling, and pressed ruby red lips to her bare white back before commencing the action.

 _You're the real thing,_ the song playing on Zoo TV sang. _You're the real thing… even better than the real thing, child._


	4. Chapter 4

"So," Cheviot stated gravely as he surveyed the six members of Network 23's executive board, "it turned out to be a wise decision to phone Grossberg and inquire about his new program."

"Not that we got anything out of it," Lauren spoke up. She propped herself up with her elbow and gazed at Cheviot with a thinly-veiled challenge in her eyes. "As I said you wouldn't."

Cheviot ignored the blow. "At least we discovered the program is called Zoo TV…"

"And Grossberg bought it from the Devil Himself," Ashwell piped up.

There was an uneasy silence following that statement, as the board thought back to the call that they had all been privy to. Moments after Cheviot had dialed the number, Grossberg's smug mug had lit up the screen before them, obviously delighted that his program had garnered enough attention to warner a call from his rival network. "Let it all out, Cheviot," he declared as soon as Cheviot's face appeared onscreen. "I know what you're calling me for, and let me tell you, I'm not selling it."

"I'm not calling to inquire about a purchase," Cheviot replied, his expression firm. "I simply wanted to know what it is."

"It's a program called Zoo TV, and it's about to rock the world," Grossberg said. "And no one can replicate it. For higher ratings, I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere."

"Where did you get this program?" Cheviot asked, wanting to remain civil but unable to stop thinking about how Grossberg had once been his superior. Once upon a time he had looked up to this man… Now he saw him for the slime that he really was.

"I made a deal with the Devil, Cheviot." Grossberg smiled infuriatingly and jerked his chin out. "It's not something I'd think Network 23 were likely to do."

Besides that scrap of non-information, no one on the executive board had gotten concrete facts out of Grossberg, and so their meeting today was called to sit and wait for the inevitable. Cheviot turned on the ratings chart, and a small murmur of disappointment rippled across the room. Network 23, while still popular, was easily overshadowed by Network 66, who was running away with the ratings. It didn't even matter that Network 23 was in third place- 66's ratings were so high that it eclipsed everyone, even in the hours when Zoo TV was not broadcasting.

So of course it came as no surprise when a collect call came in from New Tokyo, leaving a deadly serious Ped Xing, head of Zik Zak Enterprises, threatening in his cultured voice to pull Zik Zak's advertisements from the air and leave Network 23 hanging without a sponsor. "Unless you find a way to get back to number one by the end of the day," he murmured, and the air was so cold that it felt as if his presence was in the room, "Zik Zak can and will bail. We expect more from such a top network."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Cheviot sighed after the somber call ended. "Edwards, call Bryce and get to developing a substitute Zoo TV program- immediately."

"But isn't that fighting fire with fire?" Lauren spoke up, always opposed, but this time having a point. "Having Edison Carter do an expose on Zoo TV would produce similar results."

"Lauren, we don't yet know that it needs an expose," Cheviot said gently.

"After what his team found last night, I'd say it does," Tessier argued.

 _What his team found last night._ Cheviot sat back and thought, remembering how Murray had called upstairs to inform him of the content of Zoo TV's subliminal messages. They made people irritable, he said. Not only did they hook people into watching further, with the message Watch More TV, but they also sparked a potentially lethal combination of aggression and prestige. Under the influence of such emotions, anyone could turn into a ticking time bomb, just waiting to attack someone. If anything, Murray had added, because it was far too early to predict any concrete happenings, the crime rate would go up.

The findings were indeed dangerous, but as there had not yet been a sign of violent outbreak from any of those thousands of Zoo TV viewers, Cheviot knew that he would have to make the unpopular decision to imitate Zoo TV as much as possible. He settled back in his seat and shook his head. "You're telling me that there could be a risk to human lives, but I'd argue the risk to our network is greater. There are worse repercussions that we have to deal with- you don't want to be out of a job or out of house and home, do you Tessier?" Tessier shrugged and looked down at the table's surface before him, subdued.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Cheviot said, gazing from face to face across the board. "But this game we're playing is important, and we must come out as victors. We have to produce a duplicate of Zoo TV and get it on the air before Zik Zak pulls their sponsorship."

Lauren was the first to speak up, and Cheviot expected her to try and continue the argument, but the words that came out of her mouth surprised him instead. "Grossberg said it was impossible to replicate. I say we track down whoever created the program and get him- or her- to sell to us."

Cheviot blinked as all heads turned in Lauren's direction.

His hand slowly moved towards the viewphone's dials.

 _Now be a good girl and enjoy yourself._ That was what MacPhisto had said after kissing Frances on the head and before leaving the house to go out to some bar, locking the door after himself. Frances knew it was a bar he was going to, instead of something related to his job as a musician or as a crack TV salesman, but she never pointed this out to MacPhisto. He wouldn't have liked to hear it. Once she was sure he was gone, she sighed and crossed her legs, looking down at herself in embarrassment. MacPhisto had let her get dressed, at least, before handcuffing her to the bed. If anyone called on the viewphone Frances would be able to handle it. But it bothered her that MacPhisto had told her to enjoy herself, when that wasn't at all what she could do here.

Normally Frances would spend the day napping or watching TV, though with a passionate hatred. But today, she did neither. Instead she flopped on her back and let out a sigh, trying to tune out the music that Zoo TV was blaring in its morning block spot. _Just a few more minutes, and then it's off the air…_ If only the TV was turned to a more agreeable channel, something like… Network 23. But now that MacPhisto had sold his program to 66, he wouldn't let the rival channel be turned on in his household.

 _Network 23…_ Frances closed her eyes and let out another sigh, this one transforming into something less futile and more pleasant. She remembered the times she had watched the channel, just a few months ago. Their programming was top-notch, of course, full of edge-of-your-seat action from one moment to the next, and Frances had enjoyed pretty much everything they broadcast. Her very favorite program, however, was _The Edison Carter Show: What I Want To Know._ She'd started following Edison when he was tracking gang activity in the city, and had watched every subsequent broadcast up to the one aired the day before, for she had been running errands for MacPhisto and didn't have time to stop and watch TV. Now that MacPhisto had forbade her from doing so, it looked as if she would never see that wonderful show again.

But it was all Frances wanted to see. Ever since MacPhisto had found her selling herself on the streets and had given her a new life, a new sense of purpose, she had deluded herself into believing that he was truly in love with her and she him. Her feelings towards him had waned over time, though, and eventually it became clear that MacPhisto just wanted her for sex, just like her old customers. He wanted someone to tell him what his greatest achievements were, someone to make him look fabulous in public, like a trophy wife. No, not even that- Frances was MacPhisto's _trophy._ She served no purpose for him other than to impress people with. And she hated herself for it.

Interestingly enough, Frances' realization that she no longer loved MacPhisto coincided with the same week she had started watching Network 23. She had first seen the _Edison Carter Show_ with a bruised and needy heart, and it was this heart that latched onto Edison himself as he searched for the members of the boy gang. To see someone so resolutely devoted to unveiling the world's seedier side, to bringing justice to those who deserved it, filled Frances with hope. _If he knew I existed,_ she often thought to herself, _he would work hard to make sure I got a better life._ And so it was Edison she watched for out of the corner of her eyes when walking through the crowded Fringes, Edison she imagined sometimes when MacPhisto kissed her, Edison whom she fantasized about walking through the door one day and unlocking her handcuffs. He was, to use an obsolete term, her knight in shining armor- even though they hadn't met yet. But when they did meet, Frances knew that he would save her.

She closed her eyes and began to daydream, to live out the great fantasy in her head, and ended up dozing off for a bit… only to be awakened by a series of beeps coming from the viewphone. Frances sat up immediately, forgetting that she was wearing handcuffs, and her wrists protested viciously as she tried to force them into a position that they would not go into. A light was blinking on the viewphone beside the bed- someone was calling. The music that Frances had fallen asleep to had given way to Network 66's usual daily programming. For a few moments all Frances could do was stare fearfully at the viewphone, before telling herself that whoever was calling was either MacPhisto or an associate, and the least she could do was tell them that her master was out for the day. She sat all the way up, straightening her back, and reached out to discreetly press the button that would answer the call with her toes, before awkwardly wriggling into a position that would hide the handcuffs on her wrists and also provide her with comfort.

A familiar face filled up the screen. "Hello." And Frances nearly screamed with shock. The man she had last been thinking about, Edison Carter, was calling MacPhisto's abode! Had her prayers and dreams finally been answered?

"Hello…" Frances managed to spit out uncertainly, unable to gaze away from those dazzling blue eyes. It was exactly the face she knew from TV, only this time Edison was talking directly to her and no one else.

"Are you the man who goes by Mr. MacPhisto?"

This question was so unexpected that it threw Frances off for a few moments. No, she wasn't MacPhisto and she wasn't a man. Where would Edison ever get that ide- Then without looking down at herself, she remembered what clothing she had worn to MacPhisto's home the night before, and what clothing he had thrown at her in the morning and in which he expected her to dress herself. Garbed in a man's suit and binder for her breasts, with shorn short hair and an androgynous face to add to the illusion, it was easy for anyone to mistake Frances' gender. That had been the whole point.

And suddenly, Frances desired with a violent longing to be someone else for a moment, to use MacPhisto's authority to find out what Edison wanted. Why _shouldn't_ she be MacPhisto? She slouched forward, ignoring the warning tug of the handcuffs, and put on her least-interested, squinty-eyed face. "Why, are you looking for him?" she asked, using her deepest, most gravelly voice.

"As a matter of fact I am," Edison replied, unfazed. "Do you know where he is?"

A smile broke the corners of Frances' face as she replied, "Right in front of you, darling." Not only was it appropriate to use some of MacPhisto's mannerisms, but it also gave Frances a deep satisfaction to use terms of endearment on Edison.

"MacPhisto-" For a second Edison paused, and Frances' heartbeat sped up, at once afraid that her disguise had been seen through. But he continued with, "I'm Edison Carter, a reporter from Network 23. We at 23 have seen your program on Network 66, and the executives would like to arrange a transaction."

"A transaction?" Frances said, raising one eyebrow. "Why, what do you mean?"

"They're looking to buy Zoo TV," Edison told her seriously, and Frances' heart skipped a beat. Network 23 to buy Zoo TV! But that would mean selling out. And not only selling out, but the negative effects of the program would also reach broader audiences and conspire to cause a revolution to arise. That, as far as Frances could figure out, was part of MacPhisto's mass plan, and try as she might to pretend that Zoo TV was a harmless muvid program there was still something deep within her gut that told her this was wrong, wrong, wrong.

"And?" Frances said, just barely managing not to stutter, when she saw how Edison was unresponsive.

"And before they can do that, I'll need to ask you a few questions first," he said.

Questions. So Edison too had picked up on the potentially harmful side effects of Zoo TV and wanted to shut it down, despite his network's wishes, before it got out of hand. Part of Frances' soul surged with admiration for her knight, while another part of her remained in control of a MacPhisto guise. "Sure thing, darling," she purred airily. "I'll make an appointment at a bar downtown, where we can shoot the breeze. Where and when would you like to go?" It seemed like a MacPhisto sort of thing to do, to flaunt his wealth in public instead of agreeing to an interview over the 'phone. The only problem, however, would be getting enough money to spend on drinks and getting out of the house itself…

Onscreen, Edison's brow furrowed. "I was thinking we could conduct the interview over the viewphone."

"Nonsense." Frances waved her hand. "It's better that we meet in person. It'll be my treat."

Edison's eyes took on a wary look, but he slowly nodded. "All right. I'll meet you for lunch in an hour. Does the Sidewalk Café sound good to you?"

"Of course," Frances said, her mind frantically trying to work out how far away that was an how soon she could get back. "See you in a bit, darling." Edison disconnected the line, and Frances immediately fell back against the bed, breathing hard.

She couldn't believe what she had gotten herself into- a date with Edison Carter himself, who was under the impression that she was the creator of Zoo TV! There was only one aim that Frances could see for herself, and that was to tell Edison a minute after he arrived at the café that she wasn't who he thought she was. She needed to inform him all about MacPhisto's bad deeds, such as holding her in his house every day against her will and trying to incite a revolution. And maybe he would do a story on it, and rescue her, just like Frances had always hoped.

The only problem was how to get out of her bonds that kept her to the bed, but Frances didn't think it would be so hard. If she could do that, she had the rest of the day made, for she knew where MacPhisto kept the money in the house. Unless he had changed the location since the first time she had been caught pinching from it… but there were only so many places to hide such a thing. If anything, the money was probably lining the walls at this moment.

Even in a dreamless sleep, strange words pulsed behind Bryce's eyelids, transforming one by one into a phrase. ENJOY… THE… SURFACE. ENJOY THE SURFACE. _Enjoy the surface._

Bryce then woke up with a sudden start, called to attention by a female voice rasping in his ear. "Wh- what?" he mumbled, reaching out awkwardly for his glasses. Someone slid them into his hand, and Bryce put them on to find Tina standing above him, her expression inquisitive.

"It's time to get up, Bryce," she murmured. "You don't want to be late for work."

"Oh… work." It seemed like a million miles away to Bryce. "Thanks for waking me, Tina."

Tina smiled, nodded, and pressed a kiss to Bryce's forehead before walking out of the guest bedroom. Bryce watched her go, his mind turning. He didn't remember falling asleep in this bed, though it was usually where he slept when he was at Tina's apartment. He must have been too tired to cuddle the night before, because the last thing he remembered was sitting on Tina's bed with her arms around him, sharing the heat of her body and gently exploring her mouth. Any acts further than that would have been inappropriate, which Tina knew and Bryce was grateful for. He figured that maybe someday they would feel comfortable enough to make love properly, but that was a long way in the future, and Bryce felt content waiting.

 _Enjoy the surface._ The phrase came rushing back to Bryce, and he shook his head to dispel it from his ears, honing in on the sound of Network 23's morning news broadcasting in the other room. Tina was a good network employee and always left the TV on their channel. Slowly, Bryce dragged himself out of bed and got to his feet, going over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room where he had temporarily unpacked some spare clothes for the duration of his stay at Tina's. He began to mechanically dress himself, the phrase from his sleep tumbling through his thoughts all the while.

For a few moments Bryce was given to existential introspection, a task that he hardly ever performed. Computers would usually fry their chips if they attempted to understand the deeper meanings of life, but Bryce had learned before that he was no computer and thus was prone to moments like these, especially when strange phrases such as _enjoy the surface_ were on hand. What exactly was the surface- what one saw on the outside? And people did tend to enjoy that far more than what was on the inside. The children's TV show _Missile Mike,_ for example, excited kids with what looked like the antics of a badass crimefighter, but raised interesting questions about morality and ethics when his penchant for brazenly blowing up buildings with no thought for the lives of the humans inside were taken into account. And Zoo TV, on the surface, appeared to be an innovative muvid channel, but was actually far more dangerous than it appeared.

The surface, Bryce reflected as he pulled on his pants, was always deceiving, sometimes in real life as well as on TV. And that led him to wonder what people would see on the surface of his relationship with Tina. They would see romance, but beneath that there was a four-year age difference. Beneath that, Tina was legal and Bryce was a minor. Some could interpret their relationship wrongly. And mentally, it could be argued that Bryce was more mature than Tina, on the basis of his superior intellect… though Bryce didn't feel very mature.

And when Tina looked at Bryce, did she enjoy him simply for the surface? Did she look at him and think of him as a young kid from whom it was easy to take advantage? Likewise… Bryce suddenly wanted to stop the thought right there, but he couldn't get his mind to shut up. Likewise, the surface of Tina was beauty and lipstick and pretty clothes, which was probably why Bryce enjoyed her. Was there really any true romance in their relationship at all?

Two halves of Bryce warred with each other, competing for the truth. One side of Bryce, the emotion-driven side, told him that there was no way that was true, that he loved Tina for her entire being and she loved him the same way in return. But a more logical side of him informed him that this was his first relationship, indeed the first time he had ever experienced romantic love, and he wouldn't know for sure what was acceptable. Perhaps he wasn't in love with Tina at all. Perhaps this emotion was something entirely different from the romance that everyone talked about in hushed, dreamy tones.

And who was to say that Tina was anyone special? _Couldn't it have just as easily been Theora?,_ Bryce mused. _Or Jenny?_ He knew that he was attracted to females, but beyond that he had no idea how to feel in response to their advances.

"About time you got up and smelled the coffee," Tina laughed as Bryce wandered into the room, the rich scent permeating the air. "Come on, have a sip. It'll make you stay awake longer!"

"Thank you," Bryce mumbled as he sat down at her kitchen table and stared at her, trying to decide if he was really attracted to her or not. "But stimulants don't really mix well with me."

Similar words flew around in Edison's sleeping brain like a storm of bees attacking him. MOCK… He rolled over, restless in bed. THE… DEVIL… AND… The TV blared, and the murky sensation of being unable to tell sleeping from wakefulness polluted his head. HE… WILL… FLEE… FROM… THEE.

Edison's eyes cracked open, and he groaned as the world oriented itself correctly, still seeing the text flash up before his eyes. _Mock the Devil and he will flee from thee._ Yesterday the Zoo TV slogan had seemed like a threat, but in the cool morning air the phrase only seemed to make a special kind of sense. To mock the Devil was to make light of a person or situation that was, in fact, completely and utterly serious. It was like joking about the nuclear holocaust that everyone had learned about in school and then never spoke of again. It was like broadcasting painful and intrusive images for the purpose of titillating entertainment.

"For our entertainment," Edison mumbled towards the TV's indistinct noise, and was mildly surprise when it didn't respond to him. Thoughts waddled their way into his head and seated themselves, refusing to budge. Was what he did for a living mocking the Devil? There had been countless times in the past when Edison had been charged with a difficult assignment, one that required him to film scenes that would almost seem exploitative to the viewing audience… but they weren't exploitative, because Edison had more taste and tact than that…

But when he pointed out the injustices of the world, what did anyone do to fix that? Sure, some criminals got their comeuppance from time to time, but sometimes it just felt like pointing fingers (or rather camera lenses) and laughing. What was he, Edison Carter, doing to help the underprivileged members of society? Exposing their plights to the jaded viewing audience, and then leaving them to fend for themselves while he went back to the Network 23 skyscraper and got paid for his trouble, his mind already turning towards details of the next story. Out of sight, out of mind.

At once Edison found he was mouthing the words _I won't play the ratings game_ over and over, and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling and think. By exposing the part of society that people would rather not think about, he was doing the world a good deed, but he was also warding off his own demons- mock the Devil and he will flee from thee. He told himself that simply broadcasting on network TV was enough coverage necessary, but what did he expect global viewers to do about it? Did anyone really care what he had to say- what he wanted to know?

Slowly, the bitter taste of apathy began to set in, and the small part of Edison's mind that still valiantly reminded him what he was fighting for was gradually drowned out. He was far gone, lost in his head, when someone called on the viewphone.

As Theora slept with Kent beside her in bed, she saw letters appear in her inner vision, transforming into words and then to phrases. REJECT YOUR WEAKNESSES.

"Reject-" Her eyes popped open with a start, revealing a blank white ceiling. There were no phrases to be seen anywhere, and the only sound she heard was that of the TV's morning chatter, though a few moments ago she could have sworn she heard electric guitar.

Theora blinked and waited for her to get her bearings. Once she remembered who she was, where she was, and what she had done the day before, she rolled over and reached out to touch Kent, who lay bare in bed a few centimeters away from her. He didn't stir at her touch, sprawled out on his stomach with his arms pillowing his head, but Theora stroked him again and felt a smile curving her lips. She leaned in close and threw an arm around him, breathing into his ear. This time Kent did twitch a bit, and Theora pulled back to observe her lover awakening from deep warm sleep.

"Good morning," she said as Kent's brown eyes blinked open, and a voice inside her head whispered _Reject your weaknesses._

"Morning," Kent mumbled, his eyes falling shut. Theora bit back a giggle and then twisted her body back to the other side of the bed, checking the nearest digital clock. A sigh fell from her lips- it was about time for Kent to be going. She turned back to him and pressed the palm of her hand to his face, causing his eyes to reopen.

"You need to get up now," Theora murmured, but the statement sounded less like a warning and more like the coo of a dove. "You have to get down to the shop in half an hour."

"Must I?" Kent sighed, then reached out a hand and patted Theora. "Just five more minutes..."

Theora shook her head, though it was not what she wanted to do, and leaned in to press a single kiss to Kent's forehead. At least once he was gone, she thought, she would have a few more minutes to sleep.

As Kent slowly and groggily got himself out of bed and into some clothes, Theora flopped onto her back and thought, musing over the phrase she had seen in her dream. _Reject your weaknesses._ Certainly it was good advice. If one refused to allow the burdens of life to bog them down, one could achieve anything. And if one ignored the opposition facing them… if one worked around their fears and everything that told them one would never rise high in the world… one would more easily accomplish what one wanted the most.

It was, indeed, good advice for her to take to heart, Theora thought as she lay there. Even though she was highly praised as being the best controller in the field of the present age, and even though her coworkers highly respected her, Theora had never really felt that she belonged in the trade. She loved her work, both at World One and Network 23, and wouldn't have preferred going into any other profession, but at the same time there had always been a prevalent, if unspoken, admission that women weren't respected as highly as men were when working on the news. Though there were a handful of female reporters in the field- Janie Crane for one and Angela Barry for another- it was usually the men who got all the glory, while the women tended to stay behind at Control. And sometimes men handled the job of controller and were praised more highly for it. In terms of her standing amongst her peers, Theora Jones was in a league of her own.

At times this thought could be exciting, but occasionally Theora felt alone at the top of the class, alienated from the rest of the controllers at Network 23. She felt that being a rarity, a woman in one of the highest-paying jobs in the country, wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The men she had worked for, Edison Carter specifically, had seemed to take it for granted that she was into them and would sleep with them if they just said the word. Even Murray had made no secret of the fact that getting involved with a famous reporter would advance Theora's career. But Theora knew that in order to do that, she would have to help herself. She refused to further her career immorally. Besides, as everyone said, it took two to tango, and Theora couldn't imagine playing with anyone's feelings just to get herself into a better position. This especially went for Edison, whose interest in Theora often seemed to her to go beyond the physical- but she had never really talked to him about it before.

And so it became necessary for Theora to reject her weaknesses- to deny everything that brought her down in the eyes of her coworkers, to ignore the sidelong glances and hidden snickers that told her they were waiting for her to slip up. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she thought about it- how she wouldn't work in spite of her weaknesses, but rather ignore that they were even there. Theora was determined to rise up, to clutch at the power she knew she deserved. To regain some of that heady brew that she had tasted the day before when watching Zoo TV.

REJECT YOUR WEAKNESSES. Yes, that was the slogan that made her heart beat fast.

Kent spoiled the moment then by leaning in, and their lips brushed roughly against each other. "See you," he whispered.

"Goodbye, Kent." Theora settled into bed and watched Kent slip out of the door. Her eyes began to flutter shut. Just half an hour was all she had till she had to be up and at it, and she was determined to make the most of it by sleeping. Besides, she had set an alarm.

However, Theora only managed to get in a good minute of rest before the viewphone by her bed issues several beeps. Her eyes popped open wide, and she rolled onto her side, pulling the sheets up tightly so that everything bare below her neck was obscured from the caller. Before answering, Theora had a sinking feeling that the caller was Edison, or someone else related to work. Who else would call her this early in the morning?

"Theora." The face on the other end was in fact none other than Edison, as shirtless as she was, though he did nothing to hide it.

"What is it?" Theora asked, and her words came out as a croak. She swallowed hard to wet her throat and repeated the query.

"Murray wants us in early," Edison explained. "He didn't tell me _why-_ said he didn't want to ruin my morning." He chuckled and then sighed, running his fingers through his light hair.

"I'll be on my way," Theora replied. "Thank you for calling." Edison nodded and then disconnected. Theora lay back against the pillows, her mind spinning, trying to work up the urge to heave herself up from the engulfing bed. What was this call about, she wondered- had there been an advance in the budding story about Zoo TV? Zoo TV… The words she had seen in her dreams, REJECT YOUR WEAKNESSES, bounced around inside her head and gave her the strength she needed to stand up and face the day, wherein they disappeared, popping like soap bubbles as Theora's vision went black due to a quick head rush.

Down at Network 23, Edison hardly waited for Theora to come in and take her seat at her monitor before turning to Murray and asking him, with a slight edge in his voice, "So Murray, what's going on? What couldn't you tell me over the 'phone?"

"You're not going to like it any more in person," Murray sighed. "But it's a bomb that's got to be dropped. Cheviot's orders have come in to track down the person who created Zoo TV. He wants us to buy the program for our network."

A brief pregnant pause followed, and Theora held her breath until Edison spat a harsh, " _What?"_

"Look, I knew you wouldn't like it," Murray cut in quickly. "But you've got to quit whining. This is what our network executive has ordered, we can't just ignore that."

"Whining?" Edison retorted indignantly. "This isn't whining, Murray, this is being reasonable!"

"Re-Re-Reasonable?!" Max blurted from a nearby screen. "What's reasonable is giving me- me- ME!- more airtime. N-n-not installing a whole new p-program!"

"I'm afraid," Theora began quietly, "that I have to support Edison and Max here." _Or rather Edison and Edison 2.0._ "It seems counterproductive to fight fire with fire. If Network 66 is using potentially harmful messages, we'd be just as bad as them by using the same."

"We'd be sinking to their level," Edison muttered. Murray glanced over to give him a warning look.

"This decision was made by the head of our network," he reminded Edison, Max, and Theora. "No one's going to ignore our superiors. If we adopt Zoo TV, it means that you can't expose Network 66, because it will make _us_ look bad."

"Ah-Ah-Ah!" Max exclaimed in disgust. "Well that takes the f-f-fun out of everything!" He vanished.

"But this is immoral-" Edison began to protest, but Murray stopped him in his tracks. "Don't argue. I'm sorry that you feel this way, but you're gonna have to suck it up."

"All right then," Theora sighed, turning back to her monitor. "There's got to be a high amount of potential stories out there, none of which involve Zoo TV."

"Oh, you know that junk is just mocking the Devil," Edison growled. "We'd actually be _doing_ something if we take on Zoo TV."

Theora swiveled her neck around to stare at Edison. "Mocking the Devil?"

"Well, no one's going to complain anymore," Murray said, using his most authoritative voice. "Bryce is already tracing Network 66's transactions in order to find out where Zoo TV came from. We should be hearing something very shortly- Cheviot wants us to call the creator, you know," he said as he came over towards the monitor and peered at its startup screen. "Don't ask me why. We'll talk to the person who sold Zoo TV, and then that will be that."

But Theora suspected that Murray knew that in Edison's mind, that would most definitely _not_ be that.

The number was dialed, and in a few seconds Jenny's youthful face filled the screen, blinking out at her caller. "Well, if it isn't Bryce Lynch!"

"Hi, Jenny," Bryce said, feeling his heartbeat relax as he did so. After Tina had brought him into work he had felt vaguely tense all morning, and was relieved to get an assignment and talk to an old friend. "I need some facts."

"You're not getting any info out of me until you explain what you've been up to recently," Jenny said. "How are you? We haven't talk since… the last time you wanted information." She grinned ruefully, and Bryce found himself smiling back.

"I'm fine," he said. "Thanks for the flowers you sent when I was in the medcen."

"No problemo," Jenny replied. "I saw the broadcast of _You The Jury-_ hope you're doing well now." She spoke unsurely and delicate, having heard what Alex had done to Bryce but not sure if it was wise to mention it.

"I'm fine," Bryce repeated. "Tina's been taking good care of me."

One eyebrow arched- that was a special trick of Jenny's that Bryce had always envied but never been able to replicate. "And who is this 'Tina?'"

"My girlfriend," Bryce replied nonchalantly, as if he was talking about the weather. To him, the news wasn't a big deal.

However, Jenny's right eyebrow flew up to meet her left, and she exclaimed with wonder. "Bryce, you have a girlfriend? And you didn't immediately tell me?"

"It wasn't all that important," Bryce said, though in actuality the thought of informing Jenny had never crossed his mind. Besides, the strange and confusing feelings regarding Tina that had set in that morning were still prominent in his heart, and he began to think perhaps it wasn't that important anyway.

"Well, of course it's important to inform an old friend," Jenny chided. "Come on, Bryce, tell me about 'er. What's she like?"

"She's pretty," Bryce said dispassionately, seeing Tina's lovely face float about his eyes and evaluating her in a matter of seconds. "She's smart for a controller and she's funny, too." Seeing Jenny's incredulous smile and knowing that she was about to continue her interrogation, he changed the subject quickly. "Jenny, I don't have all day. Just tell me what you know about Zoo TV."

"Zoo TV?" At once Jenny's features changed from those of open humor to those of dark seriousness. "Why didn't you mention it? It was only a matter of time before Network 23 wanted to get their hands on Zoo TV."

Bryce shrugged. "You know how it is with professional competition. They're always trying to outdo the others. Anyway, can you tell me where you got Zoo TV? Apparently Cheviot called Grossberg, and he claimed to have made a 'deal with the Devil,' but that doesn't make logical sense."

"Actually, if you'd seen the guy it would," Jenny sighed, her expression turning grave. "Grossberg purchased Zoo TV from an executive named MacPhisto. At least, he said he was an executive, but I caught a glimpse of him and he didn't look like any executive to me. He was wearing a gold suit and shoes with glitter on them, and he had on white makeup and lipstick and- here's where the Devil part comes in- he was wearing a pair of red horns."

"Hm," Bryce said, composing a grinning, devilish face in his mind based on Jenny's description. "Sounds eccentric to me."

"He looked pretty eccentric," Jenny agreed. "And the program's nearly indecipherable."

Cautiously, Bryce asked, "You do know that there are hidden messages in it, right?"

"Of course." She gave him a _what-do-you-think-I-am-an-amateur_ look. "It was easy enough to figure out once I'd reviewed the program. Grossberg didn't want me to mention it to anyone else, though. I think his inner circle and I are the only ones at 66 who know about it."

"Do you know what the messages are supposed to do?" Bryce asked. "I analyzed the footage yesterday with Theora and Edison, and it had profound effects on us."

Jenny asked what sort of effects Zoo TV had caused, and Bryce detailed each emotion- how he had felt exhilarated and euphoric, how Theora had claimed to feel stronger and more powerful than ever before, and how Edison had grown pessimistic and apathetic, refusing to explore the program any more. Worry began to saturate Jenny's face the more she listened, until finally she said, "Bryce, this isn't good. I need to know, did the messages have any lingering effects?"

Bryce thought for a few moments, and was about to blurt out "No" when suddenly he remembered the morning, and his dreams. Amongst the usual blankness had been those scrolling words- ENJOY THE SURFACE, which then had stayed in his mind after he woke up. It was these words that had hung in his head all morning and caused him to question his romance for Tina.

"They might," he said slowly, and then- "Jenny, can I talk to you about something?"

Surprise colored her voice. "Sure… what's on your mind?"

Instead of answering right away, Bryce sat back and folded his arms, scrutinizing Jenny's facial expressions. Could he feel for her the exact same tender affection that he had felt for Tina? Was this love, or just a friendly maneuver?

"Do you… like me?" he asked.

"Of course I like you, Bryce." Jenny gave an exasperated sigh. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"I don't mean it like that." Bryce continued to scrutinize her. "I mean, do you _like_ me?"

"What are you getting at?"

"You know. Not just 'like.' Like… _like_ like."

"Are you trying to ask if I love you?" Jenny said skeptically.

"Yes," said Bryce, relieved that she had finally put the pieces together. "Like that."

"No, I don't." There was a teasing tone in her voice. "I haven't felt like that since we were at ACS together."

"Right…" The revelation that Jenny had once _like_ liked Bryce was hardly surprising to him. "That's kid stuff. A…"

"A schoolgirl crush." Jenny giggled. "You shouldn't be afraid of hurting my feelings if you're with another woman now."

 _Woman…_ Though Bryce knew that the term applied to Tina, he still didn't like thinking of her as someone older, more mature than him. He tried to get back on track. "That's not what I was thinking about."

"Oh? What were you thinking about?" A small testy pout appeared on Jenny's lips. "You know, I'm a busy person, Bryce- I can't keep postponing my work for you."

"I understand." Bryce gave a brief nod. 'But Jenny… if I were to, I don't know, tell you that I like you in the way I like T- I mean, in the way I mentioned… would you… want to be with me?"

Jenny assessed the imaginary situation, and then answered, "Perhaps."

"Then should I be with you instead of Tina?" Bryce asked, and Jenny threw him an _are-you-kidding_ look. "Bryce, emotion doesn't work that way. If you like Tina, you can't just decide to like me based on some old crush I had."

"That's the thing," Bryce said. "I'm not _sure_ if I like Tina."

Jenny stared out at the old friend on her screen, and realized that Bryce was struggling with his first relationship, with comprehending these emotions which he had never experienced before. And she couldn't give him any advice, as she had never been in a relationship either, but she was more in tune with her emotions than Bryce was and knew what one should say in this situation. She lowered her voice and spoke warmly, calmingly.

"Bryce, I'm no expert but I think you should talk to Tina about how you feel. I'm sure you'll be able to work something out."

"Yeah… I guess I should," he said, resigned. "Thanks for the advice, Jenny. And thanks for the data."

"Thank _you_ for calling," Jenny replied smugly, and disconnected. Bryce sat there staring at the screen for a few moments more before punching in the numbers to dial downstairs, to connect with Edison's team.

"The person who created Zoo TV is named Mr. MacPhisto," Bryce said to the audience of three who surrounded the viewphone. "No first name was given. Grossberg is aware that the program contains subliminal messages, but he won't allow anyone else except his board of executives to know that. Apparently it's a very hush-hush deal."

"I see," Murray said slowly. "Thank you, Bryce."

"No problemo." With that, the viewphone disconnected, and Edison stared down at Theora, whose fingers were already flying across the typewriter keys of her monitor. "I'll search the city's database for him," she said. "With luck, we'll find the right person."

"MacPhisto," Edison snorted. "What kind of a name is that?"

"His name, I suppose." Theora entered her search and watched as files began appearing onscreen. Edison shot her a look of playful exasperation. "That's kind of obvious." He slid into place behind her shoulder and studied the search's yield. "There's only three names…"

"David Edge, Adam Clayton, and Larry Mullen," Theora read aloud. "I suppose the name 'MacPhisto' is a pseudonym." But for which man? She opened the first file and began reading quietly to herself, before relaying the relevant information to Edison. "It says here that this man is in a local band called The Hype, playing guitar under the name Reggie the Dog. Apparently performs with Adam Clayton, the Cat That Got the Cream, and Larry Mullen, who doesn't appear to have a stage name…" She read on and her heartbeat skipped. "And a man known as Mr. MacPhisto!"

"Try the link to his file," Edison urged, and Theora did so. After a few seconds of waiting, they were presented with this notice-

ERROR

_The page you have been trying to reach does not exist. It has never existed._

_Please click the link below to redirect you to the previous page. Thank you._

"A Blank?" Theora murmured. "He didn't do a very good job of it if so. There's still cross-references in his friends' files."

"Maybe he has a file under his real name," Edison suggested. Theora went back to the previous page on David Edge and switched positions, crossing one leg over the other. "A message like the one we just saw would not appear if his file was under a different name. It would redirect us to his file, not claim that no such file exists."

"Damn…" Edison muttered, hanging his head. "Well, it looks like there's no way to track down this MacPhisto guy." He looked up and made eye contact with Murray, who was a few meters away from the monitor. "Hey, Murray, I hate to disappoint the big boys upstairs but this MacPhisto is virtually untraceable."

Murray came over and joined Theora at her monitor, watching as she demonstrated the lack of results. When the Error page showed up, he drew in a breath. "He's been blanked. That puts a damper on everything…"

"It's not like we have anything to lose by not gaining Zoo TV," Edison said. "In fact, I think we're better off without it."

Murray shook his head. "Actually, there's something I didn't mention to you."

"What?" Theora turned around in her seat to face Murray, and saw the guilt flash in his eyes. Something important had slipped his mind, and now he knew he had to pay for it.

Edison echoed Theora. "What is it, Murray? You're going to be out of a job if we don't obtain Zoo TV?"

"No," Murray said gravely. "It's more serious than that. Zik Zak is going to pull their sponsorship unless we manage to buy Zoo TV and put it on the air by the end of today."

The weight of what had just been said settled in, and Theora felt Edison draw a breath- but he refrained from saying anything. Without official sponsorship from a corporate company, the network had no leg to stand on. They would plummet in the ratings, and pretty soon everyone would be out of a job. It would be better off to work for Big Time TV than to work for an unsponsored corporate station.

"Now, I believe you when you tell me MacPhisto is untraceable," Murray said. "If there was a way to track him down, Theora would certainly find it. But I'm warning you, we've got less than twenty-four hours to do what's asked of us. So we'd better hop to it." He paused, as if waiting for further comments, but when no one said anything- Theora, for her part, was too surprised by the news to speak- he backed away and left the pair alone, confident that they could work out the problem.

As soon as Theora looked to Edison, he sighed, already determined to turn this around no matter how much he disliked it. "You think they tried looking MacPhisto up themselves, but found it too tough a nut to crack?" he said.

"So they turned the job over to the professionals," Theora said. "Very wise of them, if I do say so." She looked to her monitor and scanned the results of the search, hearing Murray's voice resound in her head. _If there was a way to track him down, Theora would certainly find it._ Everyone was counting on her to do this job, and it was important for Theora to reject her weaknesses, to reject the sensible, despairing voice in her head that told her there couldn't possibly be a way. There was always a way. She placed he fingertips on the keys, and Edison caught the motion and gave her a knowing look. "You're going to do the impossible, Theora?"

"If I can do it, it's not impossible," she corrected, hitting the search bar where she had first looked for MacPhisto. "You know, if MacPhisto only erased his own personal file but there are references to him still scattered across the database, I think I know where to look. There's bound to be some vestige, some backup file that's still in existence."

"And you could break into it?" Edison murmured. "The city's security is no joke, Theora Only the best of the best are allowed to mess with the files in the mainframe."

"Have you forgotten who I am?" Theora teasingly retorted. "I _am_ the best of the best." Though it was a joke, a small part of her had to agree- she had, after all, just been thinking that morning about how she was in a league of her own.

But anyway, to business. Once again Theora searched for MacPhisto and once again nothing relevant came up. She tried the link on David Edge's page once again, and once again the Error message appeared. But Theora was crafty and knew that there had to be a way around the page, one that didn't involve knowing the subject's real name. Not every tidbit of information could have been flushed away into the cyberspace. Instead of clicking the link that brought her back to the previous page, she typed in a code that could give her access to the city mainframe and its database, if she worked hard enough for it. The words flashed up onscreen in big red letters- ACCESS DENIED- and Theora sighed, gritted her teeth, and kept trying.

"It just occurred to me," Edison said. "If MacPhisto is a Blank, Grossberg would have never bought Zoo TV from him. In fact, he wouldn't have been able to buy anything from him at all. Blanks don't have bank accounts- they'd need a personal file for that."

"So MacPhisto's file might not be appearing in the database because it's being updated," Theora said, her heart beginning to speed up in wild excitement. "Perhaps you were right, Edison- he's in the database under a different name, or is changing his file to a new name."

"It still won't help us if we can't get in," Edison said. He leaned forward, his hands on the back of Theora's chair and his chin centimeters away from resting on her head, and the contact felt warm and natural. "Go to the mainframe. There's bound to be a way."

Silently, Theora complied, and as soon as she was at the database's main page she began throwing every trick she knew at it, trying to pull up all the pages that were in the process of being edited. Three times the red letters flashed on screen- ACCESS DENIED, ACCESS DENIED, ACCESS DENIED. And then, a sudden miracle occurred, and the words turned green. ACCESS GRANTED. Theora found herself staring at a new version of the database, one where the city's committee made tiny changes in preparation for updates the files in the event of name changes, relationship statuses, how many children one had, occupation switches, and the like. The updates were then reviewed by another assemblage of citizens before finally being published live. The theory was that no one could read an alternate article and be the wiser, but those who were as skilled as Theora could sometimes enter the mainframe and mess around with edits, seeing the evidence disappear before their very eyes. No one would ever try to edit their own file, though, of course. Controllers may be paid hackers, but there was only so far the city would let one go in the quest for information.

"He shouldn't be hard to track down now," Theora said, rapidly typing in MacPhisto's name and hitting Enter. As the search results gathered together, Edison and Theora held their breaths collectively, to release them at once when the first result appeared onscreen- _Paul de Bono,_ right before _David Edge, Adam Clayton,_ and _Larry Mullen._ Hesitantly, Theora clicked on the first name, and the file that opened made her grin. Below the name _Paul de Bono_ was a series of smaller letters- _Mr. MacPhisto._

"This must be the guy," she said. Edison muttered something that sounded like assent. Clicking around, Theora discovered MacPhisto's eye- and fingerprint, and pondered the lack of a photograph before striking gold- his viewphone number. Theora copied it down and then handed the number to Edison. "There you go. I suppose you'd better call him alone."

Edison sucked in an impressed breath. "Theora, you're a goddamn genius."

"Thank you," she said, flashing her twinkling brown eyes at him. "I'm no Bryce Lynch, but I try."

She waited there, at her monitor, and withdrew from the database in her spare time- it wasn't always a good idea to spend a lot of time down their without being fully authorized. Murray came over, and Theora relayed the tale of how she had found MacPhisto's 'phone number to him. "Edison's gone off to call him by himself. I suppose we'll have Cheviot to inform when he comes back."

"Good work, Theora," Murray praised her. "You've made more progress than I expected- after all, the twenty-four hours won't be up until twelve more hours." Theora smiled but didn't soak in the compliment; it was all a hard day's work to her.

Soon enough Edison came back, and Murray put out his hand and heartily shook Edison's. "Thank you so much for complying to the terms of our network," he said. "I know you've made a big sacrifice here by holding back your personal beliefs."

"Yeah, I did that," Edison replied calmly, letting go of Murray's hand. "Wasn't as easy as it sounds."

"So what did you tell MacPhisto?" Theora asked, wishing she could have been there to see what he looked like. "Did you make it clear that Network 23 wants to purchase Zoo TV?"

"Of a sort," Edison said, piercing Theora suddenly with a knowing look. Theora abruptly got the feeling that he was hiding something from her… something important… "I agreed to meet him downtown for lunch."

"What?" Murray blurted in surprise. " _You_ to meet MacPhisto for lunch?"

"Don't be silly, Murray, it's only an hour from now," Edison said. "I'll be plenty hungry then."

"That is obviously not the point," Murray stated. He took an imploring step towards Edison, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Why didn't you just give Cheviot's number to MacPhisto?"

"How would _I_ know he'd call him?" Edison spat scathingly. "I don't want this to be a nice, smooth transaction, Murray. MacPhisto is obviously hiding something about Zoo TV, and he's putting the public at risk by allowing its messages to be broadcast. Before we make the decision to buy Zoo TV, I'm going to interrogate the man who made it and see if I can't uncover some of his dirty secrets."

He strode away from Murray, and Theora discovered that she was fighting the urge to smile broadly. After Edison's odd bouts of not caring the day before, it was nice to have him back as a reporter willing to investigate. Murray, however, looked aghast, and called behind Edison's back, "But Zik Zak-"

"Zik Zak can take care of itself," Edison said. He searched around a bit before finally finding and picking up the Network 23 camera that he used on nearly story. Lifting it onto his shoulder and turning around, he stared at Murray through the viewfinder before continuing, "Just tell Cheviot to tell Ped Xing that we'll get the ratings back up, all right- just not in the way he thinks. Theora and I are going to expose Zoo TV, and we're going to do it by the end of the day."

"You're researching and broadcasting an entire story in just twelve hours?" Murray said disbelievingly. "That's nearly a record time, Edison especially since we don't have any real leads on Zoo TV, and the ratings might fall even fu-"

"Murray." Edison lowered the camera from his face, and Theora saw that his blue eyes were blazing. He set his jaw firmly as he spoke. "I want to be involved in this story. I want to know I'm doing something right and not just mocking the Devil. I can do this- you've got to trust me."

"I, for one, trust you, Edison," Theora spoke up admirably from behind the monitor. She felt a thrill that Edison had included her when talking about the upcoming story. "I'm ready to get started."

"Okay," Murray said warningly. He wagged a finger in Edison's direction. "You've not sold me yet, and I doubt you'll convince Ped Xing. But I do trust you to carry this story out to its fullest."

"Thank you, sir," Edison said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a date." He turned and waltzed towards the doors that would take him out into the great big world, and Theora smiled to herself and began to set up a link to his camera, to see through Edison's eyes throughout the entire "date."


	5. Chapter 5

"I've come to bring you some news," Murray said on the viewphone, his face magnified to more than thrice its size on the big screen in the board room. "We were able to track down Mr. MacPhisto and Zoo TV, but there's been a change of plans. Edison has decided to sek out MacPhisto himself and go after him, exposing Zoo TV's harmful subliminal messages. He says that the story on Zoo TV will boost our ratings while simultaneously taking out Network 66's popularity."

A surprised murmur rippled across the board room; this was a development no one had been expecting. But they trusted Cheviot to speak for them as he said in his calm voice, "Can he air this story by the end of the day?"

"He says he can," Murray replied, and looked as if he wanted to sigh. "And I've put all my faith in him. He's gone off to meet MacPhisto in a café at this moment."

"I see." Cheviot surveyed the faces of his board members before turning his attention back to Murray. "Thank you for informing us, Murray. Please keep us posted."

"I will," Murray promised before disconnecting. The call now over, Cheviot looked to his board members to see if they had any ideas on what to do next.

"Should we call Ped Xing now?" Ashwell asked. That cemented it; Cheviot shook his head. "Now, we wait and see if Edison Carter delivers on his promise." He sighed and looked up at the screen, which now showed the quickly-falling ratings that every network but one was suffering. "By God, I hope he does."

Frances's palms were sweating, and she couldn't get them to stop, not by wiping them on her jacket and not by jamming them in her pockts. After discovering that she was unconsciously biting her lip, she gave herself a stern talking-to in her mind. _Stand tall and erect. Make eye contact with patrons. Whatever you do, don't send out any signals that you are helpless. The men will see right through you. You may look like a man on the outside, but if anyone sees the flash of fear in your eyes they'll know you're not who you appear to be. Keep calm and don't panic._

What Frances was really afraid of wasn't meeting with the man of her dreams. No, she was simply afraid that MacPhisto would decide to drop by the café, and notice that his slave had inexplicably released herself from her bonds. Frances had worked long and hard at that, first uselessly yanking the chains that held her to the bed so hard that she was sure her wrists would break before stretching her entire body out across the bed's length to reach desperately for her boots, with had been discarded somewhere on the floor a little way's beyond the viewphone. Straining her entire body, Frances had finally managed to haul her boots towards her with her toes, before carefully lifting them up, still without using her hands, onto the bed. Once there, she had recovered the small pocket knife she always kept inside, in case of sudden danger on the streets, and began to work away at the locks on each set of cuffs. It took a lot of work, but eventually Frances had broken free of her bonds and immediately set to work on locating and stealing the money. There hadn't been a minute to waste. Fortunately MacPhisto was quite predictable in his hiding habits- the credit tubes were stored beneath the bathroom sink. And now Frances was downtown, waiting and trying not to give off any sign that she felt less confident than she looked.

But if MacPhisto happened to walk by… If it was to this very café he had planned to come…

Frances sucked in a breath, ran her hand across her shorn hair, and folded her hands beneath her armpits. There was nothing to do but wait, and keep waiting, until Edison Carter decided to arrive.

"Wish me luck, Control," Edison's voice sounded across the camera's audio link. The image on Theora's monitor showed the outside of the Sidewalk Café, an open air restaurant generally frequented by those who straddled the line between upper and middle class, like Edison and Theora. Theora nodded as she replied, "You're going to nail it." But her mind wasn't focused on Edison- instead, she was just curious to find out what Mr. MacPhisto looked like.

Edison's camera swept the crowd for a few minutes, seeking the man he had just spoken to a few minutes ago, and many people turned their faces up, drawn to the prospect of a camera and being on TV, before realizing it was Edison filming and wisely deciding not to interfere. They didn't know what he was looking for, but as a rule it was usually best not to distract Edison when he had a camera in hand. Theora watched the bubbling, eager throng for a few moments before Edison seemed to find a sense of direction and began moving more swiftly, zeroing in on a figure standing at the very edge of the crowd. It wasn't until he had focused the camera on the person's face that Theora came to understand this person was Mr. MacPhisto, AKA Paul de Bono, the man Edison had come to look for. And yet she was still taken by surprise by her first sight of MacPhisto. "Is that him?" she asked as Edison halted a meter before MacPhisto, who appeared not to see him, his eyes scanning a far-off horizon beyond Edison's shoulder.

"He looks like the person I talked to on the viewphone," Edison said, a slight tone of bemusement in his voice. Why _shouldn't_ this person be MacPhisto?

"I was just interested," Theora said cordially, but she knew that wasn't all there was to it. The matter was, at first glimpse the person Edison was calling MacPhisto had seemed to be a woman instead of a man. There was something about his pose, hunched over slightly with arms crossed, that suggested more of a scared young woman than a man waiting to be interviewed. The lips also looked too full, and the face too round, to be male. But as Edison approached him and the man broke into a knowing smile, reaching out a hand to heartily shake with Edison, Theora concluded that the androgynous features of MacPhisto's face must have been all that was to blame for the misconception.

 _As soon as Frances caught sight of Edison- foolishly, she had been too wrapped up in paranoia over MacPhisto's possible appearance to notice him weaving through the café until he was right in front of him- a deathly cold stillness took over her. She could hardly move, hardly even think, and had to ignore Edison's proximity, struck dumb as she was. It was only when Edison approached her face to face and lowered the camera from one eye that Frances took on her MacPhisto guise once more, slouching over and squinting her eyes and smiling in that broken-machine way he had. She extended a hand- "It's a pleasure to meet you_ vis a vis, _Mr. Carter." His touch and causal but wary smile nearly made her body lock down, or at the very least caused a shiver to travel down her spine, but she fought the reaction as best she could. This was her savior, and she had to engage him in false conversation before revealing her true self._

"You got a table?" Edison asked, and MacPhisto shook his head tightly in a single brief motion. "I was waiting for your arrival." He turned away from Edison and raised a slender hand in the air, catching the attention of the nearest waiter. Presently they were seated, and MacPhisto took the liberty to order for Edison. "Two strawberry daiquiris, please- it's a bit improper for lunch, but you know that they say it's always five o'clock _somewhere."_

"Thank you," Edison said, and Theora got the impression that he was trying not to smirk, "but I'd rather not take a drink this early. Nor would strawberry be my first choice."

"Well, perhaps I'll drink the both and you'll get lucky," MacPhisto simpered. "You know how a tongue is always more willing to wag with the influence of alcohol." He slowly unrolled the cloth napkin that the utensils were hidden in and arranged them on either side of his plate with a delicate daintiness that once more recalled a woman's manner to Theora.

"MacPhisto, I'd like to talk to you about Zoo TV," Edison said, lifting his camera and aiming it on MacPhisto, who glanced up innocently enough. "When did you first get the idea of developing such a program?"

Frances's heart beat fast. It was easy enough to answer these questions- MacPhisto had dragged her along with him every step of the way, overseeing the project from a position of higher authority. She'd watched him submit sequences of phrases to the video developers, play and record tracks with his band The Hype, and had been waiting for him outside of Network 66's headquarters when he went off to pitch his idea to Ned Grossberg. Yes, she could answer any question Edison threw her way with the bare minimum of facts, just enough for Edison to get the information he wanted out of her. But until she knew for what purpose he was asking questions, she refused to reply to a single one.

"Oh, are we talking about that now?" MacPhisto said, turning a full-fledged smirk that Edison had denied him on the camera. "I thought you wanted to make a transaction on behalf of Network 23, darling. No need to interview first- just name a price and we'll settle it together."

"The transaction is not mine to make," Edison replied, his voice sounding calm and steady. He lowered the camera the slightest bit, and Theora assumed that he was turning the full force of his serious clear blue eyes on the other man. "I was told to track you down and inform you of the transaction, not to make it myself. In reality-" Now Theora felt that Edison was smiling in mock pleasantry, having figured MacPhisto out. "In reality, I'm just curious about your program. If our head of technology at 23 isn't mistaken, there are some very potent subliminal messages hidden in it."

Suddenly the deep upper-crust British accent was dropped, to be replaced by a higher-pitched voice that held hints of a Scottish accent in it. "Well, if that's all you want to know I shan't bother with hiding myself anymore." MacPhisto- if it was MacPhisto- dropped his- or her?- pretense of confidence and stared with large eyes into Edison's camera, imploring him to help them. They looked for all the world like a scared young girl again.

"Edison," Theora breathed, her body jolting in surprise. "She's-"

"What do you mean?" Edison asked, seemingly in response to both the false MacPhisto and Theora.

"I mean, my name's not MacPhisto." The stranger leaned in close to the camera, reaching out a hand to presumably touch Edison's jacket sleeve and speaking just softly enough for the camera's mic to pick their voice up. "I'm related to MacPhisto in a way, I guess one can say. My name is Frances, and I'm sort of his… companion. MacPhisto was out when you called, and it seemed… convenient to take his place."

 _A woman…_ At once every aspect of Frances's disguise fell from Theora's eyes, and she saw her for what she really was- a woman who just wanted Edison's attention, connection to MacPhisto or not. She wanted to tell Edison to walk away from the interview, as meeting with a stranger could be dangerous- but she said not a word, partly because Edison responded at that time and partly because she knew unconsciously that danger was not the reason she wanted Edison to get out.

"Hm," Edison mumbled, obviously not sure what to make of this twist. "It's fortunate for you that there was no photograph in MacPhisto's file, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten away with this. Now, what do you know about Zoo TV?"

"I know just as much as MacPhisto does," Frances insisted, her raw voice begging Edison to believe her. "I watched him develop the program all the way. It's meant to be a hook for people to keep watching TV, to boost the ratings of whatever network buys it. The messages 'WATCH MORE TV' are what's supposed to do it, along with the music."

"But there are definitely more side effects of viewing than just feeling the urge to watch TV all day," Edison pressed. "Three of us at 23, including me, were affected in potentially dangerous ways, which included growing more irritable and power-hungry. Do you have any idea why MacPhisto might want to inspire such emotions in his fellow citizens?"

At this query, Frances's face grew pale, as if in sudden realization that she was in over her head. Slowly, she began to speak.

"I think I know what's doing it… At the end of every sequence, the message 'IT'S YOUR WORLD, YOU CAN CHANGE IT' flashes onscreen several times, about as many times as 'WATCH MORE TV.'" She spoke in a nervous murmur, looking like she wanted to jump from her seat and hurry off at any moment. Theora wouldn't have minded if she had, though she wasn't sure why. There just seemed to be something fishy about this Frances- an informant like her was a bit too good to be true.

"It's a message intended to incite rebellion," she continued. "I don't know this for sure, but I can _feel_ it. MacPhisto doesn't believe in the current system of government- he's always asking people, 'Don't you miss the good old days?'" Frances's voice briefly slipped into a British accent, apparently imitating the way MacPhisto spoke. "'Don't you miss the good old days, when the trains ran on time? The Raj, the Empire! No talking back from Paddies or Pakis, no!'"

Theora drew in a deep breath- that kind of language was hardly ever heard in the present day anymore. She heard Edison say, "So you think he's trying to take over the government?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure." She raised her eyes to meet Edison again, with that previous look of deep pleading written across her face. "He could be trying to spur people to think for themselves and take over the government alone. All I know is that he's a dangerous person and doesn't care for anyone else's well-being. He…" Frances breathed in deeply, trying to steady herself against the memories she was about to relate. "He's very abusive and controlling to me, and ties me up during the day to keep me from going anywhere. In fact, if he finds me down here I'm… I'm not sure what he could do."

 _Blah._ Normally Theora would have been sympathetic to a sob story like that, but all she could muster up for Frances was indifference. It all seemed to be a ploy to get Edison to feel sorry for her and help her out, no matter how deeply felt her emotions were. She rested a hand against her cheek and watched as Edison set his camera down, although it was still trained in the general area of Frances. When she saw him reach out and take Frances's hand, a strange shock went through her body.

"You can come back to Network 23 with me, Frances," Edison said. "We'll keep you safe there."

"You will?" Hope filled her face.

"We will?" Theora couldn't help repeating.

"Yes, we will," Edison replied to both women, getting to his feet and helping Frances up from her seat. "We could use your information too. I'm going to do a story about MacPhisto and expose whatever there is to expose about Zoo TV. If anything, it might give you a chance to be on network TV."

 _Oh, spare me,_ Theora thought, and then suddenly wondered why she was feeling so insensitive in response to Frances's plight. Surely she was a nice person who had done the right thing… but her presence still felt wrong to Theora, as if she had disrupted some delicate dynamic that absolutely must be preserved. At any rate, it still wasn't helpful for Theora to assume Frances was useless and only trying to get attention. But she couldn't say yet that she was necessarily fond of her.

"Thank you so much," Frances breathed, and Edison drew his hand back and turned away. "Control," he said. "We're returning to Network 23 soon. Kill the link." He then looked up, surprising the waiter who was returning at that moment with their fruit drinks. "Thanks, don't mind if I do," he said, taking ahold of the glasses and handing one to Frances. "Put it on my tab." Soon they were leaving, and Theora did as Edison told her and then sat back, musing and dreaming on the recent development of the story. They had plenty of time to find the real MacPhisto and uncover the truth about Zoo TV, but Theora couldn't help but think that Frances had somehow thrown a wrench into their plans.

MacPhisto was, at that moment, not stopping by the Sidewalk Café or searching for Frances. He wasn't even aware that Frances had escaped. Instead, he was entering his favorite bar in the Fringes, ready to see if any of the effects of Zoo TV that Grossberg had feared were beginning to take place. This had only been his favorite bar for a few days, as he had only discovered a week ago, but it was full of TV sets and Blanks who were ready to get drunk at the drop of hat, which immediately won favor with him. "Quote from the Canterbury Tales," MacPhisto whispered to himself as he pushed the heavy door open, and smiled a bright red smile. These people would do, indeed, for his social experiment.

Once MacPhisto stepped across the threshold, a few already-drunken Fringers called out to him- "Hey, mate!"- more likely mistaking him for someone else they knew than properly recognizing his identity. That did not deter MacPhisto, though. He strode bravely up to the counter of the bar and glanced over at the TV, noting with disgust that the channel was turned to Network 23 and not to 66 as it should be. And with Zoo TV about to come in a few minutes-! Why, this just wouldn't do. He abandoned the request that he had been about to make at the bar and sashayed over to the nearest TV set, reaching over the heads of the addicted Blanks to manually change the channel to 66. A few cried out in protest, and MacPhisto shushed them by raising a finger to his lips. "Don't worry, darling. I swear to you that the next program will be more stunning than the last… _quite_ the knockout." He flashed his knowing smile and winked before returning to the counter, the sound of disgruntlement subsiding behind his back.

"A Martini, please- it's the most beautiful drink in the world." The bartender did not seem to get the reference, and MacPhisto sighed through his nose and glanced longingly over into the farthest corner of the room, where a fake glass-top player piano, actually made out of plastic, sat. He knew that in a few moments he wouldn't need to make music on his own, but ever since he had first seen the instrument on his first trip to the bar the temptation had been overwhelming. What sort of music did it play? MacPhisto hadn't yet gotten a chance to find out, and hoped with all his might that it was some older stuff and not the sugary pop crap they played on radios nowadays. Of course MacPhisto had nothing against _real_ pop music, but the popular music of the current era was all manufactured according to a formula and had no substance whatsoever. As his friend Reggie always said, pop music was like a candy bar- you buy it, you consume it, and then you throw it away. MacPhisto preferred music that lasted longer, like the old standards, which were called that for a reason. The martini was pressed into his hand- it probably wasn't all that good, but MacPhisto didn't have very high standards for Fringer bars- and suddenly he realized it was now or never. He drifted over to the player piano, politely told the patrons sitting there to bug off, and then sat down to scroll through selections. "Come Together…" tempting, but no. "Love Me Tender…" no. "Can't Help Falling In Love…" MacPhisto stared at this for a bit before ultimately deciding against it. Where were the older tunes? "I Put A Spell On You…" aha, now he was getting somewhere. He scrolled through the sheet music and then selected the perfect song for a happy day, which the piano promptly began playing. Fringers sat up and took bleary notice of MacPhisto as he sang along to the piano's main melody.

" _Blue skies, high above me… Nothing but blue skies do I see!"_

Ever the showman, MacPhisto stood up and sang to the slowly-expanding audience, daring them to make eye contact. The smile remained pasted on his face.

" _Bluebirds, singing their song… nothing but bluebirds all day long!"_

He clutched an invisible microphone and twirled on the heel of one platform boot, and a few cynical people applauded for him, wishing the performance would end already. MacPhisto, however, was too confident to stop right there. " _Never seen the sun shining so bright! Never saw things going so right. Noticing the days hurrying by… when you're in love, my how it flies!"_

"And now, for a hot new show everyone's watching, it's our afternoon Zoo TV block!" an announcer from the TV set said, and MacPhisto immediately dropped everything to listen and watch. Moving a little to the side, he could just barely see the TV's screen as it faded to black… and then the words he had chosen and ordered so carefully began to fly up before his eyes, accompanied by a familiar tune. As soon as he heard the aggressive guitar make its entrance, a thrill went through his body that made him rub his hands together in delight. This was not one of the songs he had recorded with the core band- rather, it had been done late at night after carousing in the Fringes, with only Reggie and a few session musicians backing MacPhisto's powerful vocals. It had been great fun, and MacPhisto was sorry the memories were lost in the morning, to be replaced with a pounding headache.

" _You don't know how you took it… you just know what you've got. Oh, lordy, you've been stealing from the thieves and you got caught! In the headlights of a stretch car… you're a star!"_

The Blanks that sat clustered around the TV sets leaned in close and stared in wondering surprise, but a few of the other patrons of the bar turned towards MacPhisto and eyed him suspiciously, putting two and two together. MacPhisto just hopped onto the piano and leaned back on his arms, lapping up and basking in the attention. As he folded one gold-sheathed leg over the other, he couldn't help singing in delight, the words coming together to create a perfect replica of the song on TV.

" _Dressing like your sister, living like a tart… You don't know what you're doing. Babe, it must be art! You're a headache in a suitcase… You're a star!"_

The guitar that dominated the song moved into the chorus, some of Reggie's best work, and MacPhisto sighed deeply, feeling the sound waves rumble through his chest. _"Oh no, don't be shy. You don't have to go blind. Hold me…"_ His tribute to an old, great song. _"Thrill me… Kiss me… Kill me."_

Slowly, MacPhisto moved to spread out across the player piano's top, folding one leg over the other and kicking it lazily into the air as he lay horizontal. He reached up with careful, deft movements to hold an invisible microphone to his mouth, singing with the laziness of a lounge musician, though "Hold Me Thrill Me Kiss Me Kill Me" was a rock song. " _You don't know how you got here- you just know you want out. Believing in yourself almost as much as you doubt! You're a big smash-"_ He leaned his head out towards the audience and watched the confused Fringers who were furtively watching him. " _You wear it like a rash. Star!"_

TASTE KILL IS CHALK THE ELEPHANT ENEMY HUBRIS OF STAR ART, the message on Zoo TV read. MacPhisto reveled in the pictorial glory, seeing the words as if they were superimposed upon his normal vision rather than simply flashing on a TV screen. Indeed, taste was the enemy of art. That probably explained why true artists never got their proper recognition. The chorus came around again, and MacPhisto launched hiself into a sitting position, slipping off of the piano and sashaying slowly across the floor, all eyes on him. Of course, he didn't realize that many of the patrons were staring because of his absurd appearance and ridiculous grab for attention instead of respect for his "showmanship." The majority simply wanted MacPhisto to shut up.

As the song quieted in the bridge, MacPhisto stopped stock-still and glanced out across the faces of the people in the bar, noticing for the first time the bored and " _what the fuck"_ expressions on their faces. A small part inside of him cried out in complaint. These people weren't appreciating him… Well, he'd better pull out some more stops.

" _They'll want you to be Jesus,"_ he sang, gesturing magnificently with his arm, and then dropped to the floor. _"They'll go down on one knee… but they'll want their money back if you're alive at 33!"_ Rising back up to his full height, MacPhisto brought his arms out to lean back on his glittery heels and spin in a circle. " _And you're turning tricks with your crucifix… You're a star!"_

He finished the spin to realize that the patrons of the bar were unimpressed. And a few strong-looking ones were strolling towards him with hands that were clenching into fists.

They grabbed MacPhisto as soon as the chorus began again. " _Oh no, don't be shy…"_ They yanked him by his lame jacket and hauled him towards the door. " _It takes a crowd to cry!"_ The door opened. " _Hold me… thrill me…"_ And MacPhisto was shoved back outside into the bright sunlight. _"Kiss me… Kill me."_

The door closed. MacPhisto stood alone, the sunlight dancing off of his bright clothing, blinking in confusion and haphazardly running his fingers through his hair. What had gone wrong? He'd thought for sure that he had picked the right bar, the right starting point for a revolution… He'd thought without a shade of doubt in his mind that the Blanks would be held in thrall by Zoo TV. But instead, none of them had seemed to care very much. This definitely wasn't the way to undermine the government.

MacPhisto stood in the street for a few minutes more, sighing and dusting off his clothing and wishing someone would come by to take pity on him, before acknowledging that there was nothing to do but head elsewhere. He did have a backup plan, depending on which messages were broadcast, and couldn't wait to get to ACS to see how that was coming along.

After the failed "lunch date," or as Theora thought, an interview, she went to find Murray and fill him in on what had happened. He expressed mild surprise over the fact that "MacPhisto" was a woman in disguise, but seemed to find nothing wrong with her coming to Network 23- "Protection is something we can provide her with." Theora nodded, but secretly wondered why she felt it was impossible to trust Frances. Maybe it was because she was intimately involved with MacPhisto, whom Theora had already started to see as "the enemy…" or maybe she just saw Frances's story as an attempt to get on TV. Plenty of people had tried that trick before; it was a common occurrence in the news business, and though it was usually easy to filter out the true distress calls from the fake ones, sometimes it could be hard to prove authenticity. This could be one of these times.

Theora was about to settle in at her workstation when she passed a viewphone and realized suddenly, with the unusual clarity that comes in short bursts, that if she and Edison were going to spend the rest of the day working on the Zoo TV story, she had better call and inform Kent at his job. Just the night before they had discussed meeting each other for lunch, but most likely she would be wanted for work and needed to keep all of her wits about her. Lunch breaks were possible, but only if she ate at her workstation- there certainly wasn't enough time to go out to a café.

As soon as the coast was clear, Theora stepped towards the viewphone and hurriedly dialed Kent's number, all the while keeping her eyes on Murray's office. The last time he had caught her making a personal phone call at work, he had warned her against doing it again- that was another rule about keeping Theora's wits sharp. But this call wouldn't take more than five minutes, if Kent was in a reasonable mood. No one would find out her private use of the 'phone.

"Theora!" The screen flickered on with an image of Kent smiling, overjoyed, against a background of a car garage. The background was full of shadows, but Kent's grin was luminous enough to light up the entire place. "Wasn't expecting you to call!"

"Hello, Kent," Theora said, and gave a small smile, though her eyes were distracted, focusing on Murray's office door. "I'm afraid I'm calling you because we won't get to meet in person today."

Immediately Kent's face fell in disappointment. "What do you mean?"

"I have to work on a story," Theora said. "I'm very sorry, Kent. Our sponsor has threatened to stop backing us if our ratings aren't boosted by the end of the day, and this story has a chance of helping that."

Kent blinked, the hurt in his eyes starting to dissolve. "I understand if you have to work," he said. "But Theora…" He stared at her with a mixture of pity and confusion. "It's our anniversary."

"Anniversary?" Theora made the mistake of blurting. They hadn't even been in a relationship for a year yet… Immediately she regretted her statement, as Kent's features sunk further.

"Yes, Theora, our anniversary. Our first date was on June 28th. We've been together for two whole months now."

 _Oh…_ Theora could feel her own brow wrinkling in shame. They hadn't been able to celebrate being in a relationship for an entire month on July 28th, as Theora had even then been hard at work on wrapping up the Alex Burgess story. But then again, the date had never really occurred to Theora on her own. At once she was simultaneously upset that she had forgotten it today and upset that she hadn't remembered it the month before either. It just wasn't as important to her as one-year anniversaries were… That would be a true testament to her man's willingness to be in a relationship with her. Working as a controller did not easily allow for long-term hookups.

"You'll get to see me tonight…" she stated, trying to lift Kent's spirits. He sighed. "But our first date was a lunch date, wasn't it? I was going to take you to the same restaurant we went the first time… I made arrangements…" He idly tapped his fingers together and glanced down dejectedly. Theora hated seeing him in such a state, but the clock was ticking and she knew she would have to return to her workstation soon. She began to speak gently, soothingly.

"I said I was sorry, Kent. I'm sorry I'm busy and I'm sorry we can't be together on our anniversary. But I'll be at home tonight, and you can visit me then." Kent looked up at her again, his eyes begging her for more. But Theora had nothing else to offer but apologies. "I love you, Kent, but I have to go now. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Theora," Kent said wistfully. "I wish-"

"Wait," Theora cut in. "Kent? Have you been watching Network 66 recently?"

"Not at all," Kent said staunchly. "I've only been watching 23, in honor of you, Theora."

Theora nodded, not in the mood for flattery but pleased that Kent acknowledged her in such a way. "Well, don't change the channel if you know what's good for you. There's a program with dangerous hidden messages in it. We don't yet know what they can do, but I'd advise not to watch for even a second."

"All right," Kent said. "You wish is my command."

"All right," Theora replied. "Goodbye." She disconnected the line.

Standing up, Theora only had a few seconds to get herself situated before the entrance doors blew open and in came Edison Carter, striding forward with the woman Frances on his arm. Theora had hoped that her feelings towards Frances would warm as soon as she met her in person, but at the first sight of her she didn't like what she saw. Frances seemed too clingy, holding onto Edison in a way that was almost, but not quite, entirely inappropriate. From reading Edison's body language, Theora saw that Edison was unaware of Frances's advances, his mind focused on deeper matters, but it appeared to her that Frances strongly desired something from Edison- maybe simply himself.

"Theora." Edison approached her, eyes shining in a certain sort of triumph. "I'd like to introduce you to our newest acquaintance, Frances McMillan." Frances disentangled herself from Edison and stared at Theora with wide eyes, seeming to mentally size her up before extending a hand and saying, "Charmed."

"It's good to meet you," Theora said, though it wasn't. She let go of Frances's hand and turned her attention onto Edison, as Frances crossed her arms over her breasts and sighed huffily into space. "Well now, Edison, what's the next point of action you want to take?"

"Edison?" called Murray's voice from behind. Edison and Frances turned around to greet him.

"Who's this?" Frances asked, her eyes widening as she took in every aspect of her surroundings before flickering from Murray and back to Edison.

"This is our producer, Murray," Edison said, and Murray politely shook Frances's hand. "I trust Theora informed you of our visitor?"

"Yes," Murray said. "Frances, it's a pleasure to meet you. We'll get you situated in a second- just sit down while we have a meeting." He eyed Edison dangerously, an expression that Edison failed to notice. "There are a few things we need to discuss."

"About MacPhisto?" Frances piped up. "You needn't exclude me- I know more about him than you do!"

"Some of it is about MacPhisto," Murray informed her. "But ultimately the discussion doesn't concern you. Just wait, and we'll call on you in no time."

For a moment Theora expected Frances to protest, but she simply muttered, "Okay," and sat down in the nearest seat. Murray gathered the gang around him, and they headed off in the direction of his office.

As soon as the door swung shut behind the threesome and they broke apart, Murray rounded calmly on Edison. Theora expected him to ask the same question she had- what was his next move going to be- but instead Murray asked something far more intriguing. "Edison- I respect your decision to bring Frances here, but are you sure she's as innocent as she claims to be?"

"What do you mean?" Edison asked shortly, and Theora could see from the way his shoulders tensed that he was already prepared to defend Frances.

"I mean, this isn't the first time you've brought someone connected to a story here," Murray said. "But it's the first one after the Alex Burgess incident. I'm just concerned that she's not who she seems to be, and you've led her directly to the place she wants to be to do her dirty work."

Sure enough, Edison responded in an indignant tone. "What do you mean, dirty work? Even if Frances is working for MacPhisto, which I believe she isn't, the most she could do was sell MacPhisto's product to us. And why would she need to be here to do that?"

"To reach Cheviot," Murray replied. "I'm just saying, she's already pretended to be someone she's not to get you to meet with her. Just tread carefully."

"She was handcuffed to the bed," Edison said in an iron tone. "She didn't answer the viewphone out of her own free will."

"But you obviously didn't notice she was handcuffed when you called MacPhisto," Theora pointed out. Edison just blinked at her, and then returned his gaze to Murray, sighing.

"Forget it. We have a story to work on." He took a step back to lean on the table that held computers. "What we're going to do next is return to MacPhisto's place. He's bound to come back eventually, and I want to be there when he does."

"What are you going to do there?" Theora questioned, and Edison glanced over at her with faint determination in his eyes. "I'm going to interview him about Zoo TV and get to the bottom of these messages once and for all. Frances can help me with that."

"What if-" Murray began, but Theora beat him to the chase. "What do you mean, Frances can hep you?"

"She knows MacPhisto better than I do," Edison said. "She can sit in with you and tell me what to say if MacPhisto refuses to talk."

Scorn filled Theora's heart, and she let a bit of it show on her face. "Excuse me, but I'm not going to compromise my position for someone who's never been a controller. She can sit next to me, but she's not going to do my job for me." As the words came out of her mouth, Theora realized they sounded slightly petty, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let Frances, a person she didn't trust, put her out of a job. She was the best in the league- why would anyone choose someone over her?

"I don't mean she's going to work instead of you," Edison tried to assuage Theora, but she noted from his tone that he was a bit peeved. "She's just going to help me."

" _I'm_ supposed to help you," Theora protested.

"Not in the same way." Edison pushed himself into a fully upright position. "You know just as little about MacPhisto as I do. Frances is-"

"Is what? Is a genius?" Irritation rose in Theora's throat and coated her tongue. "I don't give a damn about your thoughts on her. I'm not going to let her take over the work I should be doing!"

"Er… Edison," Murray cut in sheepishly. "Can you wait outside for a moment? Go back to Frances. It seems I have to discuss something with Theora."

Theora stared at Murray, her anger beginning to die down, as Edison dipped his head and then exited the office. Once he was gone, Murray turned to Theora with shame in his eyes. "What's going on? Usually Edison is the uncooperative one, not you."

Theora shrugged, all of her pride melting when Murray's serious face turned onto her. She was embarrassed now by how she'd yelled at Edison, but the suggestion that Frances take over still made her bristle. "I'm sorry, Murray. I must have lost my head."

"Well, I hope you find it," Murray chided. "We can't have you two quarreling when you're working on a story this important." He hesitated, and then asked, "This isn't one of your, uh… spats, is it?"

In Theora's mind, the word "spat" was irrevocably tied up with marriage, and she couldn't help wanting to laugh at Murray's words. "Nope. We've had a few problems recently in our working relationship, but we've gotten over it. I promise I'm not… envious of Frances." To even suggest such a thing was silly.

"That's good," Murray said approvingly. "We need you to be on top of your game at all times, Theora, no matter how your reporter treats you."

A sigh built in Theora's chest, but she swallowed it back. "I must have been angry because Frances is not a controller. But I see Edison's point now. She can help us communicate with MacPhisto."

"I hope so," Murray sighed. "As long as MacPhisto doesn't prove his innocence."

He went to the door, and Theora opened it for him and gestured. "This way, good sir."

Murray cocked his head to the side as he walked through the door, giving Theora a confused smile. "You don't want to get into that habit, or you'll have men walking all over you."

"It's better than having them look up to me," Theora said as she followed Murray back into the hustle and bustle of the main room.

Over by the viewphone, Frances was sitting right where they had left her, with Edison now standing at her side. However, a newcomer seemed to have approached and occupied all of Frances's attention. Sitting at her side was Tina, to whom Frances was speaking in an intense flurry of words.

"…I've got not place to stay for the night, I suppose. I can't go back to MacPhisto or he'll just chain me up again. But I hope that the people here at your network will be kind enough to let me crash here."

"Hello, Tina," Theora greeted her friend, but Tina only nodded at her. She was peering with sympathy at Frances.

"Frances," Murray said to get her attention, and Frances looked up quickly, as if ready accept anything that Murray might be ready to tell her, good or bad. "Yes?"

"We want you to help out Edison on his interview with MacPhisto," Murray said, glancing quickly at Edison for confirmation. Edison nodded, and Frances's eyes turned onto him as he spoke. "You're going to sit in with Theora and help _me-"_ Theora noticed the hardly-audible stress on the word _me,_ as Edison respected Theora's viewpoint and didn't want to make it sound like Theora was the one receiving help- "talk to MacPhisto about Zoo TV. I assume you know what to say that will get reactions from him."

"You want me to work with you?" Frances repeated, sounding as if she couldn't believe her luck. _That's exactly what he just said,_ Theora thought, but forced her annoyance away.

"If you think you're up to it," Murray said, and Frances nodded passionately. "It'll be tough facing MacPhisto again, but I can try." She looked to Theora. "If you'll let me?"

"Of course," Theora breathed, and the damage was done. Murray nodded at the both of them. "All right, gang. Edison, you get back in the field as quick as possible. Theora, go show Frances where you're going to work."

"Frances-" Tina murmured, reaching out to lay a hesitant hand on her shoulder, which Frances looked down at in surprise. "If you need a place to stay, I'm always happy to help. I've got a spare room in my apartment that you can sleep in."

"What happened to Bryce?" Theora cut in in surprise. Tina couldn't be sharing the same bed with him, could she?

Tina turned her eyes onto Theora, and Theora noticed for the first time that day the anguish in them. "He told me he was ready to move back into the studio," she said lightly. Then, before Theora could say anything else, Frances replied, "That's very kind of you. I'll take the offer."

 _Are you all right?,_ Theora mouthed to Tina, and Tina shrugged before turning away. "I'll come to Theora's workstation to pick you up when you're ready," she told Frances brightly. "Hope everything goes well."

"Thank you," Frances said, blinking in gratitude. Next to her, Edison was already picking up his camera, itching to get back into the field. "I'll see you girls later," he said, and another sigh rose in Theora- she wasn't technically a _girl._ "It's time to get a move on." He instantly swirled away, and Theora was suddenly filled with regret. She hadn't apologized to Edison for her stubbornness, had she? A longing to rush after him came across her mind, and Theora wanted to obey it, were it not for Frances standing beside her.

"So where do we work?" she asked, and this time Theora couldn't conceal her sigh of irritation. _There's no 'we' in this equation._ "Follow me," she said brusquely, and walked off towards her workstation.

A walk to meet up with Kurslar in his mobile viewing home was all MacPhisto needed to get back to his usual swinging self. So the Fringers hadn't exactly taken kindly to his attempts at getting them on his side. So what? At least MacPhisto's backup plan could be put into action- it all depended on if Kurslar had gotten the right images.

A few blocks down from the Academy of Computer Science, MacPhisto recognized the same nondescript gray mobile home that Kurslar drove, and settled himself in a few feet away to stand in the long shadows of the building and wait. Eventually he was rewarded- Kurslar emerged from his van and slunk off in MacPhisto's direction, shaking his head to the side as he approached. "Did you bring anything with you?"

"As much as I have to offer," MacPhisto said, holding out the credit tubes he had brought with him. Kurslar nodded and they made a quick transation, Kurslar pocketing the credit tubes. "Well, I suppose you'd better come on in."

MacPhisto flashed a white smile. "Certainly, darling." He walked with Kurslar up to the doors of the mobile home and stepped daintily inside while Kurslar led the way to the small TV set he had hooked up inside.

"I've hacked several Securicams at ACS," he said when MacPhisto drew closer, gesturing to the split screen on the TV. MacPhisto leaned in and watched closely.

"I can even flip between views if I want," Kurslar said indifferently, his hand reaching out for the remote. "Anyway, I've been spying on them all day just like you wanted me to. Not a very productive bunch, are they? All they do is watch TV."

"Excellent," MacPhisto hissed, peering closer and closer at the screen. Subtly he took the remote control from Kurslar and began changing the few, seeing through the eyes of Securicams all over the school. Every time the Securicam cut to a view of where students should be working in private, the image was always on a child watching the TV as if transfixed. MacPhisto had watched Network 66 for long enough to memorize the order of programming, and from what he could see on the Securicam he knew that it was 66 these children were watching.

MacPhisto stared. _"Excellent,"_ he said again, and the word tasted like honey on his tongue. Beside him, Kurslar shrugged. "All in a day's work, really. Do you want me to take any photos?" Of course MacPhisto had paid Kurslar handsomely for his spy work, but selling his photographs to news networks was where Kurslar's skills really lay, and he didn't want to feel ignored. However, MacPhisto knew that if he allowed Kurslar to take photos a premature story might go on air, stopping his plans in motion. There was no telling what these freelance workers would do in order to make a few bucks.

"Not needed, darling," he dismissed Kurslar's query with a wave of his hand. "All I'm here for is confirmation that the children are watching Network 66." _All is going exactly to plan._

"If I might ask, why is it so important that they watch 66?" Kurslar asked. MacPhisto turned on him and smiled. "Never you worry your pretty little head about that."

As he walked home after the excursion into town, the plans came to life in MacPhisto's head, dancing vividly across his imagination. He'd been dreaming this up for years, ever since he realized how corrupt society had become. All the pieces were now in order. First create Zoo TV and get it sold- and without Network 66 and their desperate attempt to be Network 23 in the ratings game, the vital first step would have never happened. Then came the targeting, the messages, the gradual growing weary of modern day life, of bursting full of energy and anger and wanting to do any kind of harm possible. And then… and then came the shutdown, and the guns. MacPhisto had been hoarding up those guns for what felt like forever. He wanted to laugh when he imagined his revolt parading down the street. Who would stop a child army?

MacPhisto was in high spirits when he returned home, confident and ready to boast to Frances. He called out her name, followed by "Honey, I'm home!" However, when he turned on the lights, he was met with silence and the stone cold face of a familiar reporter.

"Wh- who are you?" MacPhisto gasped, taken aback. "Where is Frances?"

"The name's Edison Carter," the reporter replied. "I'm sure you've heard of me. I'd like to ask you a few questions."


	6. Chapter 6

"This is where we're going to work," Theora informed Frances as she took her usual seat in front of the monitor, pressing a button to rouse it from its sleep. "You'll sit beside me." Frances took in the sight with wide eyes as Theora went to get a chair. She gently pressed her hand to the screen, and then flinched as it came to life, the screen brightening up.

"Thank you," Frances muttered as she sat down in the chair Theora had brought, and Theora nodded before stretching her body and sitting down, getting cozy in her seat. She pulled up the map of the city's mainframe and began to track Edison Carter as he moved through the streets to MacPhisto's abode.

Frances smiled softly as she glanced at the screen. "Is that Edison's camera?"

"Yes," Theora said briskly, not wanting to speak any more than she had to. She switched the view from the mainframe to Edison's camera, and was knocked into the world outside Network 23. Everything looked so real she could almost feel the breeze on her skin, smell the cloudy air…

"This is the view through Edison's camera," Theora explained, already half-lost in a dream. "I use the map of the city and his camera view to tell him where to go, and guide him away from potential danger."

"You talking to me?" came Edison's voice, amused. Frances jolted back and giggled nervously, while Theora shook her head, though she knew Edison couldn't see her. "We're standing by," she said, and Edison just gave a playful snort. France sighed and crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair as Theora enlarged the view of the mainframe.

"I know the way," Frances stated. "You take a left here-" She relayed the directions to Theora, who guided Edison, pleased that this part of her job wasn't relinquished to amateurs. Presently Edison came across the same street that MacPhisto's abode was built on, and Frances pointed out his home. "It's that one story house, right over there," she said, pointing to the place on the screen. "The door's unlocked. I picked it to get outside, but I didn't have a key to lock it up with."

With Frances's and Theora's guidance, Edison approached and entered the small house. From there, Theora let the view out of Edison's camera fill the screen, and Frances crowded in to watch more closely, her breath catching when she saw the familiar surroundings. "That's the bed I was chained to this morning," she said, pointing as Edison came towards it. In the dim light wafting through the windows, Theora could make out two pairs of handcuffs left hanging on the headboard- so Frances hadn't been lying about being abused. The fact caused sympathy to well up in Theora, though she still hadn't warmed to Frances's presence.

They watched through Edison's camera as he came over and touched the handcuffs tentatively, before spinning the camera around to face himself. "What am I supposed to do now, Control?" he asked. "Wait for MacPhisto to show up?"

Theora opened her mouth to answer, but Frances beat her to the punch. "Just sit down and catch him by surprise when he gets home," she said to Edison. "Blackmail that rat bastard with me."

Edison's forehead wrinkled. "What?"

"I think you should wait," Theora told Edison, miffed that Frances had offered the same response. "Wait for MacPhisto. He'll get a big shock when he comes home." Though she wasn't entirely sure yet what the point of breaking and entering was. Edison could have cornered MacPhisto on the street, couldn't he have?

"All right, I'll wait," Edison said, and the camera turned outward as he sat down on the bed, its view zooming in on the TV in the middle of the room. "Stand by, Control."

"Standing by!" Frances chirped, and it took a bit of willpower from Theora not to glare her down. Whose role did she think Control was?

As she settled back in her seat, prepared to wait, Frances turned towards her and began speaking in her direction. "If I know MacPhisto, he'll bend under the influence of blackmail," she explained. "If he refuses to take Zoo TV off the air, we'll use me as a threat. I'll threaten to expose his dirty plans… do you think it will work?" she asked, glancing sideways at Theora. Theora shrugged and moved away from the microphone that would bring her words to Edison's ears.

"It's definitely worth a shot," she said. "If you believe you have enough information to bring MacPhisto and his program down…"

"Oh, but I do!" Frances insisted. "I was with him every step of the way when he developed Zoo TV. I'm sure he'll fall for it. Everything will be fine."

Theora nodded and returned to the microphone. "Edison, do you plan to go live with this interview?"

"If Murray will give me a timeslot, I fully intend to," he replied.

"All right." Theora stood up and brushed her skirt down. "I'm going to ask Murray right now. You'd better start practicing your opening spiel." She could hear Edison's laughter follow her as she turned her back on his virtual presence.

Murray was sitting alone in his office when Theora came in and informed him that Edison wanted a timeslot. Upon hearing this, Murray quickly got to his feet. "And he didn't tell me this earlier because…?"

"I think no one bothered to ask," Theora said. She also figured that Edison had probably made up his mind about the story on the spur of the moment.

"Time is money, Theora," Murray muttered, already moving towards the viewphone. "Of course Edison's show always draws in high ratings, but we've got other shows scheduled already." He sighed as he sat down. "Why does Edison always have to choose such irregular times for these broadcasts?"

"Well, he did say he'd bring down Zoo TV in twenty-four hours," Theora stated. "So he might just want to get a move on."

"All right," Murray sighed again, dialing a number. "I'll phone Cheviot and see if it's possible to get some airtime."

Together, he and Theora watched as Cheviot took the call, saying immediately that he'd gladly get anything off the air if Edison was about to go live. Murray wasted no time after that in getting up and out of the office, orders springing from his lips to clear a timeslot as soon as possible. However, as soon as Theora returned to her workstation she saw that Frances was now sitting in her seat, and the scenery that the camera was trained on was a man's face and not a one-story abode.

"Murray!" Theora called out as she caught sight of the screen, her heart sinking with dismay. "Edison's already begun the interview!"

She none-too-gently told Frances to get out of her seat, and startled, Frances leapt away from the monitor's screen and sunk back into her chair, breathing hard. Theora wasted no time in settling down at her workstation, her ears filling with scraps of conversation. Over the microphone, she could hear Edison saying, "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

MacPhisto stood in front of the door to his home, his face a mask of shock and distress. Slowly, his fumbled his way to the lightswitch and flicked it on, illuminating his surroundings and himself rather well. Theora could now see that the true MacPhisto wore white face paint and, oddly enough, a pair of red devil horns on his head. His hair was so black it must have been dyed, and was pulled into a ponytail. His golden lame suit shone so brightly under the lights it was nearly blinding, and his height was elevated by a pair of glittery golden platform boots.

 _What an eccentric man,_ Theora thought, and frowned. Frances bared her teeth. Onscreen, MacPhisto began to speak in a plaintive voice full of confusion, his blue eyes wide as he stared down Edison. "Why have you come here?" he intoned in a croaky British accent. "I've done nothing wrong. Who gave you the right to enter my house uninvited?"

"Ready!" Murray suddenly called as he rushed over, signaling Theora with the A-OK sign. She nodded fiercely and then spoke to Edison. "Edison, we're going live in three, two…"

The red LIVE symbol blinked at the bottom of the screen, and Edison immediately took the upper hand, sliding into professionalism as easy as one would slide on a wet surface. "This is Edison Carter reporting live and direct from Network 23," he said, and Theora watched MacPhisto's eyes grow bigger, before his shoulders relaxed and he shook himself out. "Just yesterday a fellow network, Network 66, implemented a new muvid program called Zoo TV. This program makes use of various subliminal messages, and I'm here with its creator, who goes by Mr. MacPhisto, to find out what exactly is the point."

"Yeah!" Frances cheered under her breath. "You get that bitch, Edison!" Theora only shrugged and tried her best to concentrate on the interview. Edison's detached voice sounded in her ears. "MacPhisto, I understand that hidden within the Zoo TV text are messages that you would like to get out. Can you explain to me what the content of these messages are?"

Now that MacPhisto knew he was on air, Theora could see that he had recovered himself. He spoke airily, with a faint implication of superiority. Theora expected him to turn up his nose at Edison at moment now.

"Zoo TV was created as an alternative to all the horrid music video programming that we are 'treated' to today," he said, forming quotation marks with his fingers on the word "treated." "You of course would term them 'muvids.' I am here to bring art to the uneducated masses, to hide lessons in the program through an accessible medium. All of the messages I've cleverly placed within Zoo TV are informative and do not exist for insidious purposes."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I would beg to differ with you," Edison said sharply. "Several employees at Network 23, including myself, have reported negative reactions due to Zoo TV. We have felt varying degrees of apathy, prestige, and euphoric, adrenaline-fueled fear. Can you explain to me what it is in your program that caused these reactions?"

Instead of looking trapped, MacPhisto merely smiled beatifically. Theora suddenly got the feeling he had a trick up his sleeve.

"The program isn't deisgned to hurt anybody, darling," he said, and his "darling" was more potent and dangerous than Frances's had been. "Sometimes it is necessary for negative emotions to lead the way towards true salvation. All of these reactions, you see, are provoked intentionally. Apathy is induced to cause the viewers to realize they are bored with the way their lives are going. Prestige is to inspire them to look for better opportunities. And the fear you mentioned gives a specific edge of desperation to their desires, ensuring that they will do something about their situations." MacPhisto took a step forward, and Theora noticed that his beaming, ruby-and-porcelain smile looked wholly demonic if viewed in the right setting. "I'd say that's a pretty good goal for a music video program, don't you agree?"

"You _liar,"_ Frances hissed. Beside her, Murray shifted his weight to the other foot and glanced down at Theora. "The ratings are up," he murmured. "You'd better ask Edison to buckle down and start grilling."

"Edison-" Theora began, but she stopped when she heard Edison clear his throat, not wanting to disturb his conversation with MacPhisto. Over the microphone, she heard him say, "And you consider it your task to induce these life choices in the viewers?"

"Of course," MacPhisto said, the sunlight never once leaving his expression. "I concern myself with the weak and world-weary. Everyone deserves a better chance, darling."

"Don't veer off topic, Edison," Theora gently prodded. "Ask him about the contents of the messages."

She could almost see him straighten up as he switched tactics. "The messages you have used in Zoo TV were analyzed by our head of technology at Network 23. So far the following have been found- _Mock the Devil and he will flee from thee, guilt is not of God,_ and _Watch more TV._ Can you explain what these phrases are supposed to mean?"

"We're losing it," Murray muttered in fright. "The ratings are dropping. Edison, get a grip. Find your edge."

"He can do whatever he wants," Frances replied indignantly. "It's not up to you to drag him around."

 _And it's not up to you to tell Murray what to say,_ Theora thought, but quickly forced back her irritation. Now was not the time to lose her head over Frances's presence. She watched the screen as MacPhisto gestured vibrantly to the empty air, speaking as if he were addressing a crowd of millions rather than an audience of one.

"It's very simple," he dismissed Edison's question. "'Mock the Devil' means that if one finds a way to laugh at life, your bad times will disappear. 'Guilt is not of God' means that there's no purpose in agonizing over your past mistakes. And 'watch more TV…'" He gave a funny crooked smile. "Well, you've gotten me there, darling. Who doesn't want their program to be viewed by thousands?"

"It seems you've certainly gotten very far with that goal," Edison said, but Theora could tell he was floundering, running out of questions to ask. He couldn't very well mention Frances again, not when the camera was running and he was addressing a larger audience. Theora felt the void opening up below her feet. Truth be told, there had only been suspicions of MacPhisto's evil goals, as speculated on by Edison and presented by Frances. What if this was all just a ploy to gain better publicity?

"Edison," Theora breathed. "Get out of there. The ratings are falling."

"No!" Frances lunged forward suddenly,ferociously grabbing the sides of the monitor. "Mention me! Tell him you know what I know! Use blackmail!"

"Frances!" Finally Theora lost all of her cool and fought back against the red-haired woman, pushing her away from the screen. "Please control yourself!" She shot to her feet to grab Frances from behind and hold her back, the latter panting heavily, her fingers curled into claws.

"I see," came Edison's calm response to MacPhisto, and Theora thought it was the worst in the field she'd seen him yet. Where was his relentless ability to get to the heart of the story and cut through the nonsense? It had all gone out the window.

MacPhisto gave a small shrug. "What can I say, darling. I only want to bring a positive influence to the people of this city, to protect them from seeing the filth of music videos nowadays." For a moment one side of his mouth twisted downward into a grimace, but almost immediately he regined control and smiled again. "Don't you miss the good old days?" He took another step forward towards Edison, spreading his arms out wide and imploringly. "All the pomp and ceremony and marching… ah, how I loved it!"

"MacPhisto," Edison said in a steely tone, attempting to get a handle on the interview that was rapidly spiraling out of control. "Does that have anything to do with the matter at hand?"

MacPhisto tilted his head to the side and cocked one pitch black eyebrow. "Isn't that up for you to decide?"

There was a pause- a dangerously long pause, during which Frances seethed and both Theora and Murray separately worked up the courage to get Edison off the air, until finally he was heard growling "End transmission." Dutifully, Murray cut the broadcast, and the red LIVE icon blinked into nonexistence, leaving room for Edison and MacPhisto to talk freely.

MacPhisto was the first to speak, relaxing his stance, and he voiced desperate concerns. "Where is Frances? What have you done with her?"

"I've taken her to a much better place than you can provide her with," Edison said, his tone like steel. Frances nodded, and snarled under her breath when she saw MacPhisto shake his head. "Why would the silly girl contact you? She's mine, you know. She's mine and I love her."

"You do _NOT!"_ Frances shouted. "You _swine!"_

"Frances-" Once more Theora turned to glare at Frances. "Would you please shut _up."_

"Ssh," Murray admonished them. "Focus, girls."

"What did you say?" Frances gasped to Theora, shocked.

Instead of answering or apologizing, Theora leaned into the microphone, relaying words from before to Edison. "Edison, tell him that Frances knows what he's up to. Use her knowledge as blackmail."

"Frances would disagree," Edison replied to what MacPhisto had said. "She claims that your plan is designed to overthrow the government. Is this true?"

For the smallest second Theora thought she saw MacPhisto's façade of a smile crack, but it was back on his face before she knew it.

"If people decide to do so it's no fault of mine," he said. "A mere defect in the system, I presume."

"Are you sure?" Edison pressed. "Frances is ready to speak out about your plans if you continue to deny them."

Upon hearing this, MacPhisto burst out laughing, and the sound was so demented that Theora wanted to put her hands over her ears. It seemed to be coming from deep within a different soul, a possessed spirit taking control of him.

"There's nothing to deny," he said when he stopped laughing. "I've told you everything there is to know about Zoo TV. Frances herself is no more knowledgable on the matter than you are- she can't get inside of my head." He tapped it with two fingers before continuing. "I appreciate the free promo, darling, but I do believe you've overstayed your welcome."

"But the-" Edison began, and then fell silent of his own accord. He knew as well as Theora did that continuing to speak with MacPhisto was useless- he had botched the interview by going live, and even using Frances proved not to be as great as threat as it had seemed before. There was nothing to do but get out.

"Disconnect the line, Control," he murmured, and Theora did so, sitting back and exchanging a heavy glance with Murray before looking coolly over to Frances, trying to decide what to do about her.

"Frances," Theora said, ready to be as blunt as possible, and Frances blinked two blue eyes. "Y-yes?"

Taking a deep breath, Theora stood up, so that she towered on her feet above Frances in the chair. Frances glanced fearfully upwards as well, her whole body tensing as if waiting for a strike of the hand.

"You ruined my work here today," she said scathingly. "I was told you would help me do my job, not try to take it over. Furthermore, your presence caused a great distraction to me."

"Yeah…" Frances breathed, her voice thick. "So… what do you want me to… do about it?" She blinked hard, her gaze never once leaving Theora's, and her hands seemed to unconsciously clench and wring themselves together.

"I don't think your help is needed anymore," Theora gave it to her straight. "From now on you can sit in with othe controllers, but not with me. My job is too important to risk losing."

"I was only trying to help Edison," Frances rasped in a husky voice that sunk lower and lower with each syllable. "I thought…"

"Helping Edison is what I do," Theora told her sternly. "Not you. You have no place here."

Frances's large eyes slowly filled with tears, and she glanced down at her hands, trying to calm herself. Theora only watched for a few seconds before turning to Murray, who was staring back at her with an expression of disbelief and _did you really just do that?_

"Will I be needed later?" she asked, and was surprised at the nonchalance of her voice. She had just reduced another woman to tears, and yet felt no sympathy for her at all.

"Y- yes," Murray replied, getting a grip on himself. "I'd say stick around until Edison shows up again, in case…" He didn't finish his sentence, instead sighing and staring off into the distance, but Theora knew what came after that. _In case Cheviot wants to talk to us._ Surely now that Edison's attempt to draw in ratings had failed, the board executives would demand an explanation. She nodded, and then abandoned her workstation for the restroom.

Left alone at Theora's workstation, Frances hung her head low so that no one would see she was weeping and let the embarrassment wash over her. From the moment she'd met Theora she hadn't been too thrilled about her, as she stole Edison's attention away, but at least she hadn't meant to be rude as Theora certainly had. Frances could tell from one look at Theora that the controller didn't care much for her, all based on one simple meeting. It was hardly fair to judge someone in such a short amount of time, especially if they were emotionally fragile like Frances was. She rocked herself back and forth and tried to stop the tears- _I only wanted to help my knight, my savior in shining armor._ Suddenly a hand was laid on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Murray standing over her.

"Um." He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with lachrymose females. "Are you okay?"

Frances shrugged and, though she felt rotten inside, presented a tearful smile. "I'll be fine in a minute. Don't mind me."

Murray nodded and, after one more concerned glance her way, left her side in favor of the viewphone.

After a minute, Frances did indeed feel better, and she got to her feet, wavering unsteadily and glancing around for someone, anyone, to talk to. Theora was gone, thank goodness, and Murray was intently speaking to someone on the viewphone. She sighed, and suddenly Theora's monitor lit up with the image of a computer-generated Edison Carter, or at least the bust of him. Frances was surprised at first, and then she remembered from her days of watching Network 23. This was Max Headroom, the AI who lived inside of the TV and helped boost the network's ratings with his sometimes offensive, sometimes innuendo-laden, always remarkably funny comments. To see even a part of Edison, though it was one so far removed from his true self, was a great comfort for Frances. She took a step forward, greeting Max with a tentative "Hello."

"And he-he-hello to you too, l-lady!" Max shot back with a disarming readiness. He grinned and it nearly frightened Frances. "To what do I owe the supreme-eme pleasure of speaking with you today-ay-ay?"

"Oh…" Frances fidgeted, not actually sure what to say to Max now that they were acquainted. "I guess 'm just hanging around."

"H-h-h-hanging around?" He presented the word with shock and giddiness. "Young l-lady, if we do not hang t-t-together than surely, we must never hang-h-h-hang at all. You d-dig it?"

Frances frowned. "I'm not sure I do."

"Oh, it m-m-matters not," Max blustered on. "Look sharp, for y-y-yonder human approaches, a st-st-stunner of the female variety. She's come to g-g-gather you away and take you from me… oh-oh-oh!" he cried in an increasingly melodramatic voice, throwing his head back. "This p-pain is too much for me to b-b-bear!" Then he winked out of existence, and Frances was left blinking and staring into the face of Tina, who had just approached.

"What was that?" Frances gasped, and Tina rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Max? Don't pay him any attention. He's been waxing poetic ever since Network 23 refused to grant him his own TV series."

"But I did ev-ev-everything I could to g-g-et one!" Max protested, appearing suddenly out of nowhere. "I-I-I-I even paid my debts to the communi-unity, and that's no easy feat, oh no-no-no!" He pouted and then disappeared again, and Tina returned to the subject. "Are you ready to go home, Frances? I was let off work early because there's no story to do. There never really is when Edison's in the field." She peered closely at Frances's face, and suddenly switched her tone of voice. "Are you alright? Did something upset you?"

"I'm fine," Frances muttered, the embarrassment and shame suddenly coming back to fill her up like helium wuld fill a balloon. She felt ripe and ready to pop, to release all the emotions. "Theora kind of… kicked me out, that's all."

"Kicked you out? What do you mean?" Tina asked, and Frances explained sullenly how she had let her emotions get out of control and tried to direct the way the interview went, before being chewed out by Theora and asked to stay out of her business. She watched the way Tina's eyes widened in response, and decided secretly that she enjoyed it.

When they left Network 23 together, they passed Theora, who was coming in the opposite way from the restroom. Neither one of them paid her any mind, and it was a slightly confused and subconsciously hurt Theora who sat back down at her workstation afterwards, wondering why not even Tina had said hello to her when they walked by each other in the hall.

When Edison returned to Network 23, Theora expected him to have hell to pay. But instead of approaching Murray first and trying to argue his point, Edison slunk in through the door almost silently, camera in hand but not raised towards anything, eyes shifting their way across the ground below. Theora stood up to receive him, and it was only after he put his camera away that his eyes flashed onto her.

"I failed to deliver this time," he said flatly. "I'm sorry, Theora. I dropped the ball."

"Well, you'd sure as hell better pick it up," Murray replied, stepping into place beside the two and demanding from his presence to be noticed. "What kind of performance was that?"

"You don't need to apologize to me, Edison," Theora murmured. "Neither of us did very well."

"It was my mistake, and it affected all of us," Edison stated firmly. "I should own up to it. It was a terrible decision to go live- there's no way we could have talked freely on air. MacPhisto was playing to the crowd."

"Now any viewers who were still watching Network 23 will be enticed to watch Network 66 instead," Murray summed up the results of the failed interview. "Edison, you said this morning that you would get us better ratings with your story and now you've gone and sent them away. You've screwed over our entire network!"

"That's not-" Theora began, trying to defend her reporter, but Edison leapt at the chance to argue with Murray, transforming from self-abasement to anger in a matter of seconds. "The ratings were _never_ my first priority," he growled between clenched teeth. "To be honest, Murray, I'd have hardly cared about the network if we'd at least gotten some answers from MacPhisto…" He shoved his fists into the pockets of his long coat and stared at Murray's placid face with a mixture of frustration and furious shame. "But there's no consolation because MacPhisto denies everything. He's too sneaky for his own good."

"And Frances didn't provide any help," Theora spoke up, recalling how Frances had claimed she knew the right words that would get MacPhisto to talk and then hadn't revealed any of them.

Edison looked around. "Where is she now, anyway?"

"Tina took her home," Theora replied coolly, crossing her arms. "I didn't think she was needed anymore."

"Did-" Edison began, but then Murray cut in. "Look, gang. Whoever's fault this is doesn't matter now. The only facts are that the interview stunk-" He glanced quickly at Edison to see if Edison was about to protest, but he said not a word- "and Cheviot wants us to meet him in the board room as soon as possible."

A tense silence fell over the trio as the inevitable sunk in. Edison had promised to bring Zoo TV down by the end of the day, and he had failed to do so. That promise had been all that was keeping Zik Zak from ending their sponsorship of Network 23. Now that Edison hadn't made good… Theora realized that, though Murray's words had sounded melodramatic before, perhaps Edison really had screwed over the entire network with his MacPhisto interview.

"Well, I suppose we shouldn't keep him waiting," Edison said finally, turning towards the doorway that led out of the main control room. "Come on, Murray."

"And me," Theora piped u, following Edison. He turned around on his heel and stared her down.

"Theora, you didn't do a thing to deserve this meeting," he said. "You don't belong up there."

"I watched every second of it," Theora replied, her shoulders stiffening. "I worked alongside you. This affects both of us, not just you."

Edison shook his head tightly. "Compared to me, any mistakes you might have made were unnoticeable. I'm not letting you take any heat for me."

"But I-" began Theora, and then she shut her mouth. Edison was too dead-set in his opinions of who was to blame that he wouldn't hear of any further protests. Silently, she stepped aside to let Edison and Murray pass, the latter of whom murmured in her ear as he went by. "Theora, you can go home now. It's up to us to deal with Cheviot."

"Thank you," Theora replied, and watched them move out into the hall, making their way towards the lift that would take them to Level 1 at the top of the skyscraper. A sense of incompletion filled her. She knew that it wasn't fair for both Murray and Edison to excuse her from the meeting, to assign her as being the one blameless name among them. But there was also nothing she could do to convince them she belonged at their sides. Eventually Theora turned around and went back to her workstation, her mind buzzing with dejection and fear for the future of Network 23.

Alone in the boardroom at the top of Network 66's main building, Ned Grossberg threw back his head and laughed heartily. He had watched the entire interview on Network 23, out of curiosity to see how the other network would react, and though he had once had his misgivings about MacPhisto, they all melted away once he'd seen how the man had played the interview to his favor. He was quite the showman, appearing that he belonged in front of a camera more than anywhere else. Grossberg checked the ratings, and was greatly satisfied to see that Network 66 was on top and Network 23 had fallen fast, crushed beneath the heel of a more popular program. It was all Grossberg had ever hoped for, and more he could have dreamed of. While MacPhisto got the credit for his work, Grossberg felt its immediate effects, as the ratings kept ratcheting up. Soon Network 23 might lie in ruins… and the public's eye would be poised on 66 entirely, waiting to see what their next move would be. The thought of a higher goal was exhilarating. Someday Network 66 might even be the most watched network around the world, and it was all thanks to this bizarre music program touted by a man dressed as the Devil.

Once she got home, the blinking red light on the viewphone's message receiver encapsulated all of Theora's attention, and she let her hair out of its ponytail and stretched her weary bones before sitting down, anxiety beginning to gnaw at the interior of her stomach. There were only a slim few options regarding the caller who had left a message, and Theora knew in her heart that it had been Kent. Abolishing her lunch date with him now seemed like a silly course of action, but it was one that Theora knew she had to pay for. She played the message and sat quietly as Kent's face appeared onscreen, his brow curved into tight lines.

"Hi, Theora. I just wanted to tell you that I saw Edison Carter's interview on Network 23, and… I'm rather confused at the moment. Please call me when you get this message- I would love to see you tonight."

The screen faded back to black, and Theora sighed, leaning backwards in her chair and clasping her fingers together. Kent's wanting to see her was completely understandable, but she herself wasn't sure that she wanted to see him. She didn't want to burden him with Network 23's problems, which were all that was occupying her mind at the moment. The thought flitted briefly across her brain to simply call him back, but Theora blocked it out. Though she felt a sense of duty to contact her boyfriend after he had contacted her first, the desire to do so was not entirely present.

Instead she got to her feet and, after a short moment of deliberation, went over to the refrigerator in a corner of the room and began searching for a frozen dinner of some sort. It was better to ruminate alone on the day's proceedings than to unload her emotions on anyone else. That was the way Theora had always functioned, and she was not going to let even Kent change her. As she passed the table, she noticed a familiar object lying on top of it- the diamond necklace that Kent had bought her. Theora picked it up and ran the cold glassy surface through her fingers, thinking. She must have lain it on the table that morning and forgotten to wear it. Ah well, she would add it to her ensemble the next day.

A few hours into the night, MacPhisto was focused more on getting roaring drunk than on anything regarding Zoo TV or the ratings of Network 66 or his master plan. He sipped calmly from a martini glass and stirred the contents around with a glass rod, settled back against the grand headboard of his bed. The TV would be playing his program in a few minutes, and MacPhisto awaited its onset with the peaceful inevitability as a person close to death would wait for his or her last breath. His only desire at the moment, besides wishing to watch more TV, was to have Frances lying in bed beside him, but that was a pleasure that he could not afford, thanks to Edison Carter's damned self-righteousness. What a fool MacPhisto had been to think that Frances, when left to her own devices, would remain the same passive and compliant creature that she had been when he first bought her out of her life in the sex industry. She had become far too clever lately, as evidenced by Carter's revealing her knowledge of his plans, and MacPhisto had to thank his lucky stars that he was still the smooth talker that he had been in his youth, although he was now using such skills to promote television and not religion as he once had.

MacPhisto's breathing had slowed tremendously by the time Zoo TV finally came on in its nightly block. He didn't know for sure of course, not having Grossberg's technology for checking out the ratings, but he felt in his gut that many more viwers were tuning in at this precise moment, to stay and never leave. The words that began to fly onscreen were a vast comfort to MacPhisto, and one corner of his lipstick-reddened mouth turned up into a smile as the music began to play, a wild and haunting song that spoke of following one's dream even in times of confusion. _And I must be an acrobat to talk like this and act like that. And you can dream, so dream out loud… and don't let the bastards grind you down._

After a while the alcohol had seeped inside of MacPhisto's brain, clouding his mind with sentimental melancholy, and he welcomed the intoxication like an old and dear friend. _Death is a career move,_ MacPhisto thought towards the TV screen as he downed the last of his martini (including the olive) and placed the glass on his bedside table next to the bottle, before thinking again and pouring himself another drink. _But drunkenness… now that's a form of high art._ And it was an art MacPhisto had fashioned to perfection.

When the song sequence was over, MacPhisto rolled himself out of bed and sighed, feeling the weariness in his old bones longing to drag him back again. But he did not heed the impulse and instead wandered off towards another room, one that was intended as a bedroom but instead was where MacPhisto kept all of his spare art and decorative items. It was a guilt pleasure of his, to buy _objets d'arts_ on a whim and shove them away inside this hidden room. Sometimes he had led Frances in there to appreciate the beauty, but she had never stayed for long, which was fortunate. She may have been able to find his money, but she hadn't had enough insight to locate his stash of weapons, which was formidable enough to blow apart a large section of the population.

Inside his art room, MacPhisto went over and peeled back the zebra-print throw rug from the floor. Beneath it was a small trapdoor, one that led to a hidden cellar that MacPhisto had paid others to knock out for him. He now opened the trapdoor and carefully squeezed through it to stand in the basement, gazing around happily in the dim light. The underground room was lit by a single TV, which MacPhisto had bought to fulfill the quota of two TVs per household, but had squirreled away downstairs immediately after, for he had no need for more than one. A stream of chatter billowed out from it as MacPhisto blinked at the weapons stockpiled up all around him. The majority were guns of various types, machine guns being the most preferable, but there were also a few hand grenades and bombs amongst the rubble, just in cause the going got tough.

He could see it all happening now. The guns would be placed into the hands of child geniuses, the ones studying at ACS who worked with technology every day and thus were more susceptible to messages hidden in the TV. They would patrol the streets and set up a barricade, shooting anyone who did not comply with their rules. And no one could shoot back, for the simple reasons that they were both children and smarter than anyone else in the city, and therefore far too valuable to waste. It was a much better plan than trying to stir up the dumb, rowdy Blanks. MacPhisto had once thought that the only hope for the future he desired lay in them, because they had chosen to detach themselves from society, but after their reception of him at the bar he no longer wanted anything to do with them.

Once the revolution began, MacPhisto would take over the city, being the only citizen who knew how to control the child army. And when he was in power… That opened up a limitless amount of possibilities. Zoo TV would be modified to pacify the viewing audience, and MacPhisto would restore the good ol' days to prominence once again. The thought made him giddy, and he rubbed both palms together in eager anticipation.

"Hey, y-y-you-you!" a voice called from the TV screen, and MacPhisto jerked his head around to find, shockingly enough, Network 23's pet AI Max Headroom staring out at him.

"Who do you th-th-think you are-are?" he asked. "A s-s-superstar?" The melodrama was so thick in his voice that by the time he completed butchering the quote, he was scathing. "Well, how _wrong-wr-wr-wrong_ you a-are!"

Under taunts from the talking head, MacPhisto did the first thing he could think of. He ripped off his platform shoe and hurled it at the TV screen. But Max Headroom was already gone, zapped off to some unknown plane of existence.

That _thing-!_ That hideous _thing_ that mocked Network 23's own viewers from the privacy of its TV screen! MacPhisto's hands curled into fists as he imagined what he would do if he were faced with a real life version of Max Headroom- what he had failed to do today with Edison. Thank God his obnoxious counterpart was protected by the glass of a TV, otherwise MacPhisto wasn't sure what would happen. Slowly he regained his composure- and then began to panic. Was this TV turned to Network 23? Before MacPhisto could even check to find out, he rushed to the dials and changed it to Network 66 in a second's time. A deep sigh of relief came from his lungs as The Hype's music, his own music, poured out of the screen. There would be no disturbance here. He could now go to bed and sleep safely.

Shortly after getting to Tina's apartment, Frances was showed the room where she would be sleeping, which utterly fascinated her. A bed all to herself was rare on its own, but to have a door that locked her inside of the room… She could have as much or as little privacy as she desired, depending on how far she slammed the door shut. Immediately upon being shown to her room the attraction was so strong that Frances hopped right onto the bed and lay down, rolling herself into a ball. "This is… amazing, Tina. I don't think I can thank you enough!"

"You're fine," Tina said warmly, a smile on her face. "I'll have to move Bryce's stuff out of here tonight, but you're plenty welcome here."

Frances sat up and ran her fingers across her bristly head. "Who's Bryce? Is he- Oh! He's the kid who got raped, right?"

A shadow of pain struggled across Tina's face, but she blinked and the expression was gone, although it had taken her smile along with it. "Yeah, Bryce is the one who was attacked by that criminal Alex Burgess," she said, her voice treading the line between what was appropriate to mention and what wasn't.

"I saw that story on Network 23," Frances said. "When Edison was reporting from his room at the medcen, and then when Alex was tried on _You The Jury._ It was a fascinating piece of news."

"Well…" Tina briefly glanced around herself as if looking for inspiration. "Even though Bryce isn't here anymore-" _god, it sounds like he died-_ "I don't think it's quite… appropriate to talk about what happened. It's a pretty sensitive subject for us network employees."

"Oh." Frances nodded and turned, letting her long legs dangle off the edge of the bed. "I see. I'm sorry, Tina."

"You're fine," Tina repeated, but her voice shook a bit and she couldn't help but wonder why exactly Bryce had moved out of his room so soon. He'd looked completely indifferent to her presence as he told her that he felt comfortable in his lab again, and Tina had suspected ulterior motives. But it couldn't be that she was falling out of his favor that quickly, not when they'd only been together for less than a month. Did he think having to rely on a woman was weak- or was she interfering with his work? Either way, Tina hoped that she hadn't done anything to hurt or offend Bryce, and that he would come back to her eventually.

Edison, Murray, and the entire board of Network 23 were the only individuals who spent the night less than peacefully. As soon as the reporter and producer arrived from a lower level, there was hardly time to greet Cheviot before Ped Xing and his board of Zik Zak advisors were projected onscreen and demanded to know what Edison had been thinking when he went live with the MacPhisto interview. Edison tried to explain rationally what had come to pass- though never afraid to speak his mind on more radical opinions, he was always on his best behavior around board members- while Murray apologized for everything, taking the blame on his shoulders. But in the end, their explanation made little difference to Zik Zak. A promise was a promise, and Edison's failure to make good on his meant that Zik Zak should keep their end of the deal. Before they agreed to utterly pull out, though, Edison leapt in. "Wait. Sir, I know I said today that I would try my best to raise the ratings, and I failed. But I did try my best, and I'd like to be given a second chance. This program of Network 66's is overrunning every network, not just ours. It deserves to be brought down, and-" He hated to say what came next, but the words forced themselves from between his teeth anyway. "And Network 23 deserves to be the one to bring it down."

There was a short pause, and then Ped Xing said from the comfort of his board room in New Tokyo, "You are suggesting we give you a deadline?"

"The end of the week," Murray said, catching on quickly. "We'll have the story ready by then, and Zoo TV will be off the air. We promise." Edison nodded heavily, and Network 23's executives stared.

Ped Zing nodded. "But remember, if you fail to do your duty, Zik Zak will explore other pursuits." This time it was Cheviot who responded to him, saying that they would do all they could to make good at last. Once the webcast ended, a sigh of relief went up across the board, and Cheviot sternly told Edison that he had to try as hard as possible to get Zoo TV off the air. Edison nodded, accepting the challenge, and walked out the door with Murray upon dismissal.

"You'd better get it together," Murray said when they were out of earshot from the board members. "It's not just your ass out there, it's everyone's."

"I know," was all Edison said, his tone full of steely conviction. They parted and went off to their separate apartments, Murray's being full of silence and seclusion and Edison's being the swanky penthouse of everyone's desirings. Murray stayed up that night and drank and wondered how the hell the team was going to face this daunting challenge, and if he should tell Theora about the one-week deadline over the viewphone. Edison curled up in bed and stared blankly at the television before him, refusing to blame himself and yet knowing somewhere deep in the back of his mind that the ratings drop was all his fault. Before he fell asleep, Theora's face danced in front of his eyes, and he suddenly realized that if Zik Zak pulled sponsorship she might go back to World One. It was all he could do to hope that the strength of her emotional ties to certain individuals at Network 23 would keep her in place, because he couldn't imagine what he would do without seeing or working with her again.

Theora slept soundly all night, as neither Murray nor Edison thought the news of a deadline was important enough to wake her with. When she came into work the next day, though, Murray relayed the story of what had happened in the board room, and she reacted with urgency. "So we're racing against the clock all week? We've got to get moving on this story."

"You got that right," Edison's rough voice spoke up behind her. Turning, Theora saw an unkempt, unshaven Edison standing in the doorway of Murray's office, his eyes dull and underlined darkly. Apparently he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

Theora went to him. "Edison, are you feeling all right? You look exhausted."

He shrugged. "I was up all night watching TV- not the Zoo kind, of course- and worrying for our network's future." A small but ironical grin began to appear on his face. "If this week ends soon and Network 23 is still at the bottom of the barrel, we'll all lose our jobs here, and it'll all be my fault."

"Not you," Murray said. "You've got a contract with Network 23. You're going to stay on."

"Yes, but you'd be out of business here, Murray, and Theora…" Edison turned his smoldering blue eyes onto Theora, and she was unable to look away from him. "If we failed you here at Network 23, you could always go back to World One."

Theora shook her head immediately. "World One doesn't need me. I belong here, at Network 23, no matter what."

"Besides, it's not even all your fault, Edison," Murray said. "It's that damn MacPhisto's. He used the interview to his advantage- you were just taken aback by it."

"I didn't think I was," Edison muttered.

"Well, the least we can do is start working on the Zoo TV story again," Theora said, moving towards the door. "We know that there are better reasons for bringing it down than simply boosting our ratings."

"Do we?" Edison muttered darkly. "After yesterday's little performance I'd say that MacPhisto could make anyone fall for his innocence. We're not going to get any proof if he keeps charming everyone."

"It's worth a shot," Theora said smoothly, refusing to let Edison bring her down. They were in a dire situation, yes, but she knew that there had to be an easy way out. She pushed past him and left Murray's office, calling over her shoulder, "Let's get started."

Bryce slept in late that morning without Tina waving coffee under his nose, and awoke to a message on the viewphone from one of the board members upstairs. Checking it, he realized that Ashwell had jumped the gun and panicked, as he was wont to do. "Bryce, Network 23 is in crisis. Zoo TV is crushing us and we're falling fast in the ratings. Please help!"

"What do they want me to do?" Bryce muttered rhetorically, pushing his glasses up his nose. If they were suggesting he apply a ratings enhancement treatment to Network 23's regular programming, they could just come right out and tell him.

He leaned back in his chair and pushed it to make it zoom backwards on its wheels while he wondered what sort of work he had to get done that day. Obviously the executive board wanted him for something, but since they hadn't specified _what_ Bryce felt that it was at the bottom of his priorities. He maneuvered his chair over to the cage where his parrot was kept and mindlessly refilled its food bowl, watching as it squawked and settled itself on a perch to eat and preen.

Turning around, Bryce noticed the red light of his viewphone was blinking, and immediately rolled over to it and took the call. To his mild surprise, Jenny was on the other line, her forehead creased with what would appear to be anxiety. "Bryce?"

"Hi, Jenny. What do you want?" Bryce ran his fingers through his hair to fluff it up.

She bit her lip. "I wanted to know, are you still doing a story on our Zoo TV program?"

"We were yesterday," Bryce said, crossing his legs and leaning back comfortably into his seat. "But Edison went live with an interview of Mr. MacPhisto and apparently promoted Zoo TV to viewers, so that they all ditched 23 to watch 66 instead." He shrugged haplessly. "Now the entire board is panicking about Zik Zak pulling sponsorship and asking me to fix it, which is quite silly, really, since they won't even tell me what I'm supposed to do. How's _your_ day going?"

"Not so great," Jenny admitted, and worriedly clasped her hands together. "Bryce, I've got something very important to tell you. You remember my sister, don't you?"

"Nadine?" Bryce said. "Yeah, I remember her. The one who wiped out half the computers thanks to a programming glitch."

Jenny smiled, though her eyes were tight. "Thankfully she's come a long way since then. But I just got news last night that she's been doing poorly in school. Apparently she's getting distracted and lashing out at her teachers. They told me that she'd grown obsessed with watching TV, and guess which network is her favorite."

It didn't take a teenage technology genius to figure it out. "Network 66."

"Yes!" Jenny was growing increasingly worried as she spoke to Bryce. "I can only guess that Nadine has been watching Zoo TV. Anyway, here's where the real spooky stuff comes in. This morning I got a call from ACS telling me that my sister has gone missing. Apparently she just packed up and left during the night… along with at least fifty other students."

"So it's a conspiracy?" Bryce caught on immediately. "Where did they go?"

"That's the thing," Jenny said, her composure finally slipping. "No one knows! It's like they vanished without a trace. Listen, I'm supposed to be responsible for Nadine, and when Mom and Dad hear she's gone missing they're going to put all the blame on me. But I didn't do anything!" Her voice rose in hysteria, and Bryce wished suddenly that she was beside him so he could calm her down. "Jenny, it's okay. At least, the chances are probable that it's okay. Well, maybe not probable, maybe more like a 30 to 20 chance that Nadine is okay. The mystery of the event makes it hard for exact calculations to be done."

Even through her distress, Jenny smiled. "Bryce, you're unique." She waited to compose herself while Bryce said, "I know."

"I want you to tell Edison Carter about this," Jenny said. "This is hard evidence of the corrupting power of Zoo TV. At the very least he'll get a good new story out of it."

"All right," Bryce said. "Thank you for the information. But… Jenny?"

"Yes, Bryce?"

"Why are you helping us?" Bryce asked. "You know Grossberg will probably throw a conniption fit when he finds out." He'd seen plenty of those fits when Grossberg was still the head of Network 23.

Jenny hesitated. "To tell the truth, Bryce, I don't like Zoo TV any more than you do. I don't care if your story hurts our network- it's unethical to keep this program on air." Seeing Bryce's slightly puzzled expression, she sighed. "I know you can't comprehend that, but just go with it. I'm your friend, Bryce. I wouldn't want to ruin your network."

"Thank you," Bryce said again. "I'll pass your story on to Edison's team. See you later, Jenny."

"See you, Bryce." She disconnected the line, and immediately Bryce dialed the number of the viewphone downstairs that would directly connect him to Edison Carter. But instead, the person to answer the 'phone was Theora. "Bryce?" She blinked in obvious surprise. "Hello…"

"Hello, Theora," Bryce greeted her, taking in every inch of her placid face. "I've just received some interesting information I would like to share with you."

Theora glanced backwards, presumably looking for Edison or Murray, and then said, "Go ahead."

Struck by her willingness to listen to him, Bryce was emboldened to continue. "I've heard reports that several students at ACS, about fifty… one of them, have disappeared in the night after becoming supposedly 'obsessed' with watching Zoo TV. Prior to their disappearance, the students misbehaved in class and continually got into trouble." He blinked beneath his glasses frame, watching Theora's intensely concentrating face. "I thought this might be helpful for your and Edison's story."

"Thank you, Bryce," Theora said, relief sounding in her voice. "I'll be sure to tell Edison about this."

"You're welcome," Bryce said, and this time he was the one to disconnect. Settling into his chair, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and thought about Theora. After talking with Jenny the day before, he had felt encouraged to discuss matters with Tina, but when she had come up to the lab for a lunch break his words had twisted into pushing her away. The reason for this was now obvious- Bryce was not done exploring his emotions of love to find if Tina was really the one for him. He had to talk to Theora, to see if she would respond to his advances, and if not it was right for him to go back to Tina after all.

"Murray," Theora called as he passed her workstation. "Edison. Bryce just called me with news."

When the two men had arranged themselves in front of her, their faces full of serious skepticism, Theora explained the contents of Bryce's news. "He told me that the students at ACS have abandoned their school and gone off to places unknown, as an apparent result of watching Zoo TV. There are about fifty of them missing since last night. He thought it could help us if we're going to continue a story about Zoo TV."

Briefly, Edison and Murray glanced at each other, and then Murray said, "Let's see if it's on the news yet. If not, I'm sending you down there." He went over to the nearest TV and Theora got out of her seat to crowd with Edison around it as Murray flipped through channels, looking for any sign that the story was on TV. For a moment Theora held her breath, hoping that no one had gotten down there yet, but her hopes were smashed when they stumbled across Network 85's broadcast. A reporter was interviewing one of the teachers at ACS, asking him about the students' erratic behavior.

"Damn," Murray hissed. "They got to the story before us." He stepped back to see how the interview was proceeding.

"…I mean, she was on her best behavior all year," the teacher was saying, his eyes wide as he gazed into the past to recount the story. "Made straight A's in every class and was always on top of her assignments. It wasn't until just two days ago, when Zoo TV was implemented on Network 66, that she started acting… strange. It wasn't just that she'd stopped suppressing her emotions- she would go into a trance whenever she was around the TV. We were about to discharge her from the school until she left last night on her own accord. Didn't tell anyone where she was going or anything- just up and left."

"I wonder if they have Securicam footage of the students disappearing," Theora murmured. How she wished she could be down there in that situation, tapping the Securicams for espionage work.

There was a pause as the camera panned over to show several confused-looking ACS teachers speaking to Metrocops, and then Edison brought everyone's attention back to the present. "I'm going down there."

"You can't," Murray said immediately. "85 won't take kindly to your breaching their territory."

Edison turned to him. "That's not what I meant. I mean, I'm going down to see if I can't squeeze any quotes out of MacPhisto."

"Edison, no," Theora immediately protested. "After seeing how he manipulated you yesterday, you can't take any chances. He could act like getting the students to abandon their school is a good thing."

"But who here seriously believes that?" Edison countered. "Whatever excuse MacPhisto has, it's not going to hold up under closer inspection. I've got to get down there." He looked at Murray, his jaw set firmly. "With your permission, of course."

"Sure," Murray said, nodding in response. "Go ahead. Just don't do anything stupid."

Edison cracked a grin. "You know me, boss- I'd never do anything stupid."

Theora was hardly in her control seat and pulling up the mainframe by the time Edison rushed out the door. As she looked up, she noticed that Tina was just now entering the room, with Frances trailing behind her in tow. Theora's eyes narrowed, and after breathing a sigh of relief that Edison didn't notice Frances, she set off to work, tracking out the best path to get to MacPhisto's abode.

After Edison had reached the street where MacPhisto lived and aimed the camera at his surroundings, Theora was deeply surprised to find that two men she had never seen before were stationed outside of MacPhisto's door, their arms crossed in front of them.

"Edison," she cautioned. "Don't get too close to the house, and don't let them see you have a camera."

"All right." He turned the camera onto himself, and his face mirrored her confusion. "Who do you think they are, Control?"

"I'm not sure." She swallowed, trying to place their faces in her mind. "That one with the goggle glasses looked slightly familiar."

Obeying an unspoken order, Edison turned the camera back onto the guards posted on MacPhisto's stoop, and as soon as Theora caught sight of them again she realized where she had seen the bespectacled man before. This was David Edge, AKA Reggie the Dog, the guitarist who played with MacPhisto's band The Hype. He and the unfamiliar man were dressed in blue uniforms with what appeared to be yellow lemon insignias on the pockets, and both wore sunglasses, although the unfamiliar man had more of a conventional style and David Edge's glasses were smaller and looked more like goggles. He also wore a black beanie to cover his hair, whereas the other man's platinum blond locks shone in the sun.

"Approach them discreetly," Theora murmured, but Edison was already a step ahead of her, walking across the street towards the two men. He let his hand holding the camera fall, but though it was now dangling low he still had it at an angle to shoot from. The lower angle made the two men look more imposing than they had before, and Theora drew a breath, suddenly afraid for Edison's safety.

"Excuse me?" The voice that came from Edison was harshly authoritative, but neither of the two men appeared to bat an eye. "I came to see Mr. MacPhisto the other day and neither of you guy were here. Can you let me in to see him now?"

"I'm sorry." David Edge spoke first, and his voice was a calmly cultured Irish accent. "MacPhisto is not taking visitors at this time."

"Yeah right," Edison snorted, and stepped forward, but fluidly the two men came to block the door. The unfamiliar man spoke, and his voice was deadly threatening. "Run off now, Edison Carter. There is nothing to see here."

"That's what MacPhisto told me yesterday," Edison said. "But you're not duping me again this time." He took another step, this time getting close enough for David Edge to grab his arm and lean in close.

"Oh no we're not," David growled. "We are telling you the truth- _there is nothing to see here,_ and nothing that you want to know. And if you try to come any further and stick your fucking nose in places it shouldn't go, you can be sure that both of us are going to kick your arse so hard that you'll never show up around here again."

"All right, all right," Edison relented, backing away. "I get the picture. Thank you for your time." He turned and walked back across the street, heading down the block before raising the camera up to his eyes again. "Pleasant bunch to be around, aren't they?"

"Very," Theora mock-agreed, already pulling up the view of the mainframe again. "But don't worry, I know another way around."

Edison inclined his head. "A safe way?"

"Yes." Theora briefly checked the map and then returned her attention to Edison. "You can enter MacPhisto's backyard if you cross the street here, and then walk around the back block."

"All right." He turned his camera outwards so that it faced the intersection. "Thanks, Control."

"You're welcome."

As Edison walked across the street and prepared to set off on a new leg of his reporting adventure, Murray came over to stand behind Theora and watch while she worked. "What's going on?"

"Edison was stopped by two guards outside of MacPhisto's home," Theora said. "One of them was his bandmate David Edge. Apparently he set them up specifically to block out reporters who want his comment on the ACS event."

"You think?" came Edison's voice from the screen. "I think there's something going on in that house. Something he doesn't want any outsiders knowing about."

"Well, we'll find out shortly," Theora urged him on, and she could swear from the sudden jolt of the camera that Edison was quickening his pace.

Once he had turned down the block in the back, it was easy to find the back of MacPhisto's house. "Just my luck," Edison murmured as he approached it. "Look at the windows, Theora. The curtains are open."

"You're going to film from outside?" Theora questioned, and Edison made a _hm_ sound in assent. "With hope, no one inside's going to see me." With that he approached the back of the house and moved in, closer, closer, closer… until the camera was filming the stone wall of the house as Edison peeked in the window. He inhaled sharply.

"What is it?" Theora asked, and Edison replied in the tone that meant he was very serious. "You're not going to believe this." He hoisted the camera up to his shoulder and through the window, and though the image was a bit fuzzy Theora could still see what was going on, and her jaw dropped.

Spread out across the room, lounging on floor and leaning on the countertops and mostly eagerly crowded around the TV, were numerous amounts of young children, all seeming to range from ages ten to fifteen. Theora could see that their mouths were moving in conversation, but most of them gazed impassively towards their surroundings or jostled their way to the TV set. There was no sign of MacPhisto anywhere.

"The missing ACS students," Theora breathed. "Edison, you have to go in there."

But before he did, a sight came and stopped both him and Theora in their tracks. MacPhisto appeared onscreen, flamboyantly waving his arms around with a huge smile on his face, followed by a student carrying what looked to be…

Theora's heart froze. "Is that a gun?" She didn't wait for Edison's reply. MacPhisto turned and the student handed the gun over, and he raised it high in the air, which caused every student in the room to pump their fists high, forgetting the TV. The gun, Theora could see, was not an average gun- it was a machine gun, and in the hands of anyone it could do some serious damage.

"My God," Murray breathed, and Theora's body tensed as the student who had brought out the gun went to fetch more and more, handing them out to the other students, who cradled them to their chests with pride and glory written across their faces. Over the mic, she could hear Edison's breathing speed up and become louder, until the camera's image whirled about and was jostled as Edison marched towards the back door. The knob came into view, and Theora cried out. "Edison, no! Don't go in-"

Before he could, however, the camera went haywire, falling to the ground as Edison let out a surprised cry. The picture went fuzzy for a moment, and then Theora saw, in vivid detail, the guards from the front of the house fighting to keep Edison down. The blond man grabbed him around the chest and wrestled him to the ground, while David Edge aimed a kick in the direction of his face. As his foot connected and Edison cried out again in pain, Theora jolted back, her hand flying to her own cheek, although she felt nothing there- no bruise, no broken skin. With the blond man holding him down, David went to work on Edison, slamming his fists into every bare and unprotected part of him. With every blow, Theora felt the breath leave her, as if she was the one being beaten instead of Edison.

"Martinez," Murray gasped, and hurried off in search of the helicopter pilot who could swoop in to save Edison's life. Theora could only watch, horrified, as the blond man dragged Edison offscreen and David Edge wiped the blood he had drawn off of his knuckles before stalking over the where the camera lay on the ground. Theora's heart was beating fast, and she longed to leap out of her seat and through the screen, to rescue Edison in any way possible and to bring him back to Network 23. But she could do nothing as David picked up the camera, spat on its lens, and then turned it off, leaving a flurry of snow in his wake.

Presently Murray came back to Theora's side, and cursed when he saw that the line had gone down. "For the love of God, I hope Edison can get out of there," he said. "Those weapons MacPhisto was having the kids wield could put him out cold in seconds."

"What do you think he was trying to do?" Theora asked, trying to calm down and reassure herself that Edison was all right. "MacPhisto, I mean. I never imagined the kids at ACS could be involved." But, she realized rationally, it was what Frances had feared. Frances had spoken of MacPhisto starting a revolution- it just wasn't child soldiers that she had envisioned fighting it.

Murray echoed Theora's thoughts to a point. "I think this is what Frances was referring to. She thought MacPhisto was going to overthrow the government… but with the help of ACS students?" He shook his head in utter disbelief. "This is madness. They're just kids!"

"Perhaps one of us should talk to Frances," Theora suggested, though just the day before she had been totally adverse to the idea of socializing with her in any way. Murray nodded and made a move away from her workstation. "I'll go find her and Tina. After the way you treated her yesterday, I don't think it would be wise of you to speak to her until you want to apologize." He threw Theora a look, and she nodded, hanging her head low. Her anger at Frances seemed so petty now, especially since Frances hadn't deserved her feelings hurt.

With nothing to do now but wait for Edison to return to Network 23, Theora sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to still her galloping heart or at least slow it down. A second later, her eyes opened wide once more as the viewphone emitted a series of beeps. Theora took the call and pressed the receiver to her ear, her interest dissolving into confusion when she saw Bryce on the other end of the line.

"Bryce, we've found the missing students from ACS," Theora asked before he got the chance to say anything. "MacPhisto has them."

"That's good," Bryce said absently, his eyes flickering about in distraction. "Listen, Theora, there's something I want to… show you. Something I can't do over the 'phone."

Theora glanced over at where Murray had gone before answering, "How important is it?" She didn't have anything to do yet, but she could be needed at any second.

"Very important," Bryce said. "Important to myself, anyway. Can you come up here?"

"All right. Should I bring Murray with me?"

"No," Bryce said. "I just want to see you." Confusion still clouded Theora's mind as the Disconnect icon appeared onscreen. What was so secretive that Bryce wanted to show it to her in person? And why her specifically?

She was still pondering this as she got up from her workstation, told Murray where she was going, and traveled on the lift all the way up to the hidden Level 13, where Bryce's lab was located. Bryce's head shot up immediately as Theora entered, and he got to his feet as she approached. "Hello, Theora."

"Hello, Bryce," Theora replied, resisting the urge to cross her arms. "What is it you wanted to show me?"

"Well…" For once Bryce seemed to be at a loss for words, and he briefly gazed down at the floor as he spoke. "It's not really something I wanted to show you. It's something I wanted you to… show me."

"What do you mean?" Theora asked, a small note of wariness appearing in her voice. Bryce couldn't be trying to…

"I mean…" He took a step towards her, so that they were within touching distance. Slowly, Bryce reached out and took Theora's hand, and she blinked, not sure if she should let go or not.

"I've been trying to figure out this emotion called love," he said. "I mean, don't get me wrong- I love my parents and I love my friends. But it's a different kind of feeling with Tina, and I'm not sure if that feeling is real. I need to know if I feel the same way for you, or if it's just the same kind of ordinary love that everyone has."

Before Theora could say anything- in truth, she was much too surprised to think of _what_ to say- Bryce had stood up on his toes and tried to kiss her. He didn't reach her lips in time- Theora ripped her hand from Bryce's and dodged the kiss, leaving him confused and slightly concerned.

"What's the matter?" he said. "Don't you like me?"

On any other day Theora would have shaken her head and tried to laugh at the silliness of it all, but today she could only stare open-mouthed at him. "Bryce…"

"What?"

"Of course I _like_ you," she said, feeling emotions begin to stir inside of her. This wasn't the first time she had almost been kissed by a Network 23 employee… nor had the first time been the last…

"So…?" Bryce said, folding his arms. "You don't want to kiss me because I'm too young for you?"

Slowly, Theora gathered her wits, pushing all the tangled thoughts that had just surfaced to the back of her mind. This time she had to give a shaky laugh. "No, Bryce, though that's part of it. I'm just… not into you, sorry."

"Oh," Bryce said, his eyes turning into slits as if he was concentrating on a particularly difficult mathematical problem. "Is it because of your boyfriend?"

 _Kent…_ Suddenly the tumultuous feelings that had been stirred up inside of Theora transformed themselves into something concrete, the shape of her boyfriend standing in her arms. The longing for him, as well as the guilt that accompanied this, was so strong that it early knocked Theora off her feet and left her weak in the knees. She wanted Kent. God, how she wanted him.

Avoiding the question, Theora tried to turn her thoughts back to the matter at hand by saying, "Bryce… you can't just force yourself to fall in love with someone, you know."

"But that's the thing," Bryce insisted. "I don't know. I've talked to a friend about it and she says the same thing as you, that you can't force your emotions to change… but I don't know if my emotions are even correct!" His voice rose with his frustration. "I've never been in love with anyone before. I know I like Tina, but… what if I'm just enjoying her surface and putting myself in a relationship for the sake of being in one?"

 _Enjoy the surface…_ The phrase sent an oddly familiar _ping_ through Theora, but she shook it away. Her voice turned smooth and soothing. "I don't believe you're faking your relationship with Tina. Just talk to her about how you feel. I'm sure that she'll understand."

"That's what my friend told me to do too," Bryce said, and sighed in exasperation. "Relationship stuff is _hard,_ Theora. I mean, everything was so cut and dry at ACS- they told us to suppress our emotions, because emotions get in the way of work. And I was doing so well until… until you-know-who attacked me… and suddenly Tina wants to date me and all these emotions are welling up inside me and I don't know how to deal with them and I… I just…" He broke off and for a moment Theora thought he was going to cry, but instead Bryce took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm really sorry for upsetting you, Theora."

"That's fine," Theora said, though her heart was burning. She needed to run from this place, to free herself of the emotions that Bryce in turn had stirred up in her. She needed Kent, and she did not need Edison. "I'd love to help you, but all I can say is that Tina is probably more qualified for that than I am. I know she'll help you understand what you're feeling."

"Thanks," Bryce said, sounding calmer now that he had vented. He sat down in the nearest swivel chair and pushed it with his feet to roll towards Theora. "I hope I wasn't interrupting your work by calling you up here."

"Oh no," said Theora. "No, you're perfectly fine." She turned to leave for the lift while Bryce called out, "Goodbye!"

Once the lift had let off at her proper level, Theora took a moment to compose herself before peeking into the main room. Murray was nowhere to be found, so presumably Edison had not yet returned. Nerves gnawed at her stomach- she should be returning to her workstation, and she knew it. But a large part of her protested against this. After remembering the three times that Edison had tried to kiss her, Theora felt that she was close to putting together the pieces of a puzzle. But this wasn't a bigger picture that she wanted to see. She needed Kent- he would help her make sense of her emotions. She. Needed. Kent. At once Theora whirled around and began to march in the opposite direction of the main room, heading towards the doors that would take her outside. The air hung humidly around her, only maddening her more. Theora took off at a brisk pace towards the car garage where Kent worked.

She was sweating and worn out when she got there, but her breath was still shaking and her stomach churning with want, desire for Kent. She ignored the owner of the garage who tried to persuade her to buy something- "No thanks," she brushed him off. "I've already got a relic in my room at home"- and marched quickly over to the station where Kent worked. As soon as she saw him, sliding out grease-covered from the underbelly of a car, she put on a burst of speed and rushed towards his surprised but joyful face. "Theora! What are you doing he-"

"I need to see you right now," Theora stated forcefully, kneeling beside Kent as he straightened up and wiped his face with a nearby rag. Her eyes feasted hungrily on the length of his body. Oh, how could she possibly wait? Kent stared at her with wide eyes.

"Are you all right? Are- are you…?"

"I'm fine," Theora said, and a grin spread across her face. "I just need you to come with me." She reached down to tug at his hand, and upon touching his skin an electrifying burst of energy shot from his body to hers, infusing her with the strength she needed. Kent somehow caught on to the mood, and drew in a sharp breath as he got to his feet, pulling her up with him.

"My lunch break doesn't start for another few minutes," he murmured, but Theora knew he was fighting a losing battle, and that she was winning. She leaned in close to kiss his lips, with only the barest hint of chasteness.

"I'm sure they won't mind," she said. "Come with me."

Seconds later they were roaring through traffic in Kent's own relic, a 1952 Ford Prefect, trying their best to keep their hands off each other and focus on the road ahead.


	7. Chapter 7

The door to Theora's apartment slammed behind them, and after locking it Theora went and locked herself inside of Kent's embrace. Their lips connected in a rough, sloppy kiss, and Theora bit Kent's bottom lip in the process. She sucked on it, tasting a hint of blood, while Kent's hands moved down to Theora's butt and began caressing her, gently first, and then harder and faster. It took no effort for Theora to raise Kent's T-shirt above his head, and she swiped her tongue across his neck and under his chin before tangling his chest hair in her teeth. Kent groaned then, a deep animal sound, and pressed Theora forward, moving until she was lying against the hood of the car that was in her bedroom. There he locked lips with her again, his hips already moving in time, but Theora stopped him and got up from the car's hood, discarding her sweater as she did so. Underneath, Kent only needed to push the straps of her dress down to reveal her bare shoulders, and unzipped the back of her dress to make it fall around her feet. After letting him tease her nipples with his lips for a bit, Theora broke away once more and grabbed his hand, leading him unresistingly to the bed.

They fell down naked amongst the sheets, and Kent wasted no time in entering Theora's body. She hungrily pressed her lips to his forehead, clasping him around the neck, and moaned as he thrust into her. Kent bent his neck forward to nuzzle her breasts, and they rolled over, Theora hooking her legs around his waist. She was now on top of him, and she milked the position for all it was worth, never once casting a glance at the nearby TV or the viewphone. Thoughts of anyone disturbing her privacy did not even cross her mind, as her mind was drawn to every different part of her body at once, pointing out every one of Kent's touches. He was sucking on her lips, he was licking her breasts, he was rubbing her back in a strangely sensuous form of comfort… The lines between her fantasies from an hour before and the reality of Kent's presence blurred, so that Theora wasn't sure anymore who she was in bed with. She just knew, with a sort of joyous revelation, that this was exactly what she had needed all day.

They said nothing- or rather, no real words other than "Oh…" and "God…"- until the climax stole over Theora like waves breaking against the shore. Every scattered thought was driven out of her head, and she felt her body grow limp and warm as she trembled in Kent's arms. The sensation begged for a release, a vocal release, and Theora called out the name of the last man on her mind, at a pitch somewhere between a shout and a scream. "EDISON! Oh, _Edison…"_

She fell gasping against Kent, just as he came and released himself moments later. Then she felt his muscles relax, and slid her way up his body to cup his cheeks and look him in the eye. "Thank you so much," Theora murmured, suddenly overcome with tenderness. "I missed you." She leaned in to kiss Kent sweetly on the mouth, and then pulled away. Slowly, his arms snaked their way around her body to hold onto her tight, and he stared at her in a mixture of confusion and dazed bliss.

"Whose name did you call when…?" He cocked his head, his brow furrowing. "Did you say…?"

"What?"

Instead of responding, Kent shook his head and then began to pull himself into a sitting position. Theora rolled to the end of the bed and sat up too, hugging her knees to her chest. A weary desire was taking hold of her, a longing to sleep and replenish the energy she had just burned off.

"When you came," Kent said. "You called out a name, but it wasn't mine. You called me Edison."

Time around Theora seemed to stop, and for a moment silence engulfed the room.

 _I called him Edison?_ "I…" Numerous explanations formed on Theora's tongue, but none of them dared to reveal themselves. Kent's face, slowly turning from confused to worried, encapsulated all of her attention.

"Who were you talking about?" His brow furrowed even deeper. "Edison Carter?"

Again Theora tried to explain herself, and again she could only come out with an "I… I don't…"

"Don't what?" Kent was getting increasingly agitated as he waited for her to find her words. "Theora, are you… are you seeing him behind my back? Is that why you've been so distant lately?

This was enough to snap Theora out of her frozen stance, and she let her legs stretch out and cross before her, staring hard at Kent. She wasn't sure what in the world her face was showing, but whatever it was, Kent wasn't taking kindly to it. "Are you mad? There's nothing between Edison and myself. I just…"

"Oh? Then why did you say his name?" Kent demanded to know.

"I just…" Words struggled on her lips before dying a slow death as Theora briefly closed her eyes and pushed her fingers through her long, dark hair. "I was thinking about him before I left work. He'd been ambushed while in the field. But I swear I didn't mean to imply-"

"That you wanted him to be the one in bed with you?" Kent cut in darkly. He threw the bedcovers back from his body and spun around so that he was facing the edge of the bed, and began searching for his lost clothing. "All right. All right, fine. I see how it is."

"Wait- Kent, what?" Theora began, feeling a sharp edge of unhappiness break through her peaceful post-sex relaxation. What was he going on about? She leaned forward and laid her hand on Kent's bare back, and he turned his head to glare over at her. "I swear, I didn't mean to say it…"

"But you did say it," Kent spat. "You said it and that's it. That's the last straw." He surged upwards, shaking Theora's hand from his back as he did so, and Theora watched helplessly as he found some of his discarded garments and began to dress himself. She stood up fluidly when he turned towards her again, though his eyes were focused on the floor, and took in a deep, steadying breath, feeling flame begin to boil in her belly. "Excuse me, Kent. What's the last straw? What have I done to upset you?"

He stopped dressing to stare incredulously at her. " _You_ know! Ever since we first got together, you've always put your job before me! You missed our anniversary yesterday because you were working, you didn't even have the decency to call me back or invite me over when you got home, and now _this_ happens…" He shook his head and then pulled on his T-shirt. "Honest to God, Theora, I was flattered when we first started dating, but now I'm not sure you even want to be with me at all!"

"Of course I want to be with you, Kent," Theora said, trying to maintain her composure, but the words sounded hollow even to her. She tried to infuse her voice with more vitality, but she could tell Kent wasn't buying it. "We've stuck together for three months. We always have so much fun when we're together…" What was wrong with her? Couldn't she be any more convincing than this?

"Yeah?" Kent said acridly, and he sounded so much like Edison in that second that Theora was distraught. "Can you give me any examples?"

"Well…" Desperate to make him stay, to convince him she was worth it, Theora racked her brain for the right words. "There was the first night we spent together. You comforted me then. And every night you've stayed afterwards and had a drink and we've talked over our days…" Even before she finished she saw that Kent was shaking his head, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"No. No, Theora, that's not good enough. I'm sorry." He began to head towards the door and suddenly Theora sprang to her feet, her arms opening wide. "Kent… please. Please don't go…"

"I have to get back to work," he stated. "Besides, do you know of any reasons why I shouldn't?"

Theora was about to retaliate that yes, she knew of plenty reasons why- but suddenly she was speechless once more, as reality caught up to her delusional daydreams. What looked to outsiders like a true relationship was, in fact, simply nothing. Yes, she and Kent had told each other that they loved each other. Yes, they made love on regular occasion and yes, they spent plenty of times together chatting up late at night… but had it been enough to sustain them? No, was the answer. Even in the beginning, Theora had told Kent that she loved him because it was necessary not to disrespect him, not because she had really felt the emotion at the time. And even when she thought she had felt the emotion… there had been a vital spark that was lacking, a spark that she had felt with no other man.

_So how did she know that spark existed?_

No other man but one whom she worked with every day. No other man but one whose name she had accidentally called.

Theora hung her head low, unable to find or say the words that would secure Kent by her side. She had nothing left to say. He hung on, still waiting for a list of reasons, before realizing that the reasons would never come. Murmuring, "Goodbye, Theora," Kent walked right out the door, leaving Theora's head spinning with irrational pain. She couldn't ignore the feeling that this was more of a rejection than a splitting up. (If they had split up…) Kent didn't want her anymore, because of some stupid thing she had said during sex. He had never wanted her. Wasn't this how all of her relationships ended?

Overwhelmed, Theora sunk back against the bedsheets and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come to her, to wash away the shame and embarrassment. Instead, all that came were bitter tears that stung her eyes and burned her skin as they streamed down her face, her body contorting with unwanted sobs.

It was only when the viewphone beeped that Theora roused herself, lifting her neck to stare over at it. Someone was trying to call her, and for once in her life Theora didn't give a damn who it was. Kent, trying to make up with her, or a co-worker… it didn't matter. She answered the viewphone with nothing to hide, caring not a whit about her state.

"Theora- oh, goodness." On the other end of the line, Murray covered his eyes with his hands. "Theora, please get dressed. I… I'm sorry for disturbing you."

 _Get dressed…_ Dimly the words danced through her brain, and Theora glanced down at herself, suddenly realizing that she was still stark naked. She leapt to her feet and gathered up her bra, underwear, black dress, and black-with-pink-floral-print sweater, throwing them on in a hurry. Sitting down and straightening her hair, she took a moment to clear her throat and force her breathing back to normal before saying (in what was still a somewhat hoarse voice, but that couldn't be helped), "You can open your eyes now, Murray."

Murray took his hand away from his face, seemingly relieved that Theora was back to her old self (or at least appeared to be). "Edison has just returned from the medcen," he said.

All at once Theora's mixed emotions turned into a single point of sympathy. "Is he all right?"

"They put him back together again," Murray said. "Martinez had to break into the house to get to him. It's a good thing he took Angie along as backup, or I doubt they'd have ever made it up." He sighed suddenly, and tragedy filled his expression. "They got Edison out, but one of the… the kids shot Martinez. He's at the hospital right now, and he's not doing so well."

"My God," Theora whispered, feeling the imposing world launch itself at her with brute force. First Edison was injured, and now this… "What would drive a kid to do this?"

"Zoo TV," Murray suggested gravely. "We've got a lot to deal with, Theora, and… and I don't exactly approve of your running off in the middle of the day, abandoning your duties at Network 23." He breathed in deeply while Theora wrung her hands together. "I'm so sorry, Murray. I just… I had to get out for a while."

Murray peered curiously through the screen. "You're… not alone, are you?"

"No," Theora sighed, glancing up at the ceiling above her head. "No, Murray, I am alone. My boyfriend just left me."

An awkward pause filled the air, until Murray said, just as awkwardly, "Well, I'm… very sorry to hear that."

"It's all right," Theora sighed, trying to reassure herself more than Murray. She scraped at the tears drying on her skin. "I'll be down there as soon as possible. I apologize again for dashing off."

"No worries," said Murray, already seeming impatient to go back to work. "Just make sure you get here quickly." He disconnected the line, and Theora stared at the black screen for a few long seconds before rising to her feet and walking towards the door. It clicked shut behind her, and soon enough she was out on the streets again, struggling through the oppressive heat that pressed harshly against her skin in order to find a taxi. But even as she walked, a vision of the diamond necklace lying on her tabletop swam before her eyes. She had forgotten to put it on that morning, and now she was paying the price.

As soon as Theora walked through the doors of Network 23 and caught sight of Edison standing over a monitor talking to Tina and Frances, with Murray standing close nearby, the wild emotions that Bryce had stirred up in her manifested inside her again, and it was all Theora could do not to turn tail and run out of the room. How could she look Edison in the eye after all that had transpired with Kent? Only her desire to see if he was okay after getting beat up by MacPhisto's guards carried her forth.

"Hey," Theora greeted Edison as she came closer to him, and he turned towards her, moving a bit stiffly, to mutter "Hi" out of the side of his mouth. Her eyes traveled across his body, feeling the pain in her own with every new injury that she spotted. The most obvious one was the fact that his arm was in a sling, which was seconded only by a very obvious black eye. Miniscule stitches appeared on his forehead, presumably where David Edge had broken the skin, and a Band-Aid was stuck to his cheek too. Any other possible injuries Theora couldn't see, but her heart surged for Edison, and she came close to tentatively touch his wounded arm. "What happened here?"

"They dislocated my shoulder," Edison replied, sounding grim. "It was popped back into place at the medcen, but they don't want me to use it properly just yet, in case I damage it further." Theora shuddered at the thought of her, or anyone else's, shoulder popping out of the joint, and marveled with a horrid fascination at how strong those men must have been to do something like that to Edison.

"Well, thankfully you didn't sustain any worse injuries," she said, and Edison wagged his head in agreement. Casting a glance at Tina and Frances, who were staring back at Edison as if waiting for him to finish some sort of story, Theora asked, "What happened down there after the camera was stolen?"

"I was just telling these lovely ladies all about it," Edison said, turning back towards his small audience. Frances eagerly nodded, and Tina looked up to greet Theora properly. It relieved Theora to know that she had not fallen out of Tina's good graces… but with Frances, nothing was certain.

"After the camera was stolen, the blond guy, Adam, dragged me into MacPhisto's place and handcuffed me in a corner of the room," Edison began again. Tina nodded, as she had heard this before, and Frances blinked her large eyes expectantly. Theora just stood and listened.

"The students from ACS surrounded me," he continued. "They formed a circle and pointed their guns at me to prevent me from escaping. Of course I was in too much pain to move very much." Edison gave a darkly funny smile. "MacPhisto kept handing out guns to the kids until everyone had one, and then he came over to taunt me, saying he was going to keep me in his house all day and leave me to starve. It wasn't long before Martinez and Angela Barry showed up, and they somehow managed to get past both the guards and the students. Martinez was shot, though, while he was transporting me out to the helicopter. They got him somewhere in the rib cage." Lifting his head, Edison gave a troubled sigh and stared off into the distance. "I sure as hell wish I'd had the camera with me."

"What happened to the camera?" Frances piped up. "Did the guards keep it?"

"As far as I know, yes," Edison replied. "Wouldn't be the first time I lost one of our cameras." Theora could see from his expression that he was trying to make a light-hearted situation out of it, but he was truly angry with himself for being defeated so easily. The first thought crossed her mind to comfort him, but it seemed too personal to say anything in front of Frances and Tina.

"Did anyone manage to stop MacPhisto and recover the students?" she asked instead. Edison looked over at her with a familiar expression on his face, the serious, _I am trying to figure you out_ expression. "Yeah. While you were on your… lunch break, Murray phoned the Metrocops and sent them down to deal with MacPhisto. We're waiting on their call now." Theora nodded, and with a brief backwards glance at the other two women, Edison came forward to her and drew her aside, moving away from the rows of nearby network employees. So close she could have kissed him, his deep blue eyes bore into hers, and Theora sensed that whatever he was about to say was no laughing matter. "Why'd you run off then, anyway? Murray wasn't very happy when I returned and you were nowhere to be found."

Theora deflated, letting her breath out, and deliberated for a second before saying, "I went for a walk to clear my head." It seemed easier to fib than to delve into personal details regarding Kent, specifically the strange way she had lost him.

Edison gave a sharp nod. "Are you okay? Sorry if I'm intruding, but…" He gestured to his own eyes with one hand, and Theora reached up to touch her face, feeling once again the dry tracks of tears. She sighed inwardly- her eyes were probably still red too, seeing as she'd left in a hurry without bothering to freshen up.

"I'm fine." She spoke without infusing her voice with any expression. "I… I lost something, but it's fine. I didn't need him… it anyway."

Edison's eyes widened immediately in understanding, and he took a minute step backwards, as if realizing suddenly that he was too close to Theora. "I… I'm sorry," he said, but the words were inadequate to improve her mood on the subject. Embarrassment still washed over her when she thought of saying Edison's name in bed, and so the less she looked upon him the better.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Wearily, Theora shook her head. "Edison, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

He nodded, but whatever positivity had been on his face earlier was wiped away. Noticing this irritated Theora. What was it to him that her boyfriend had left her? If anything he should be dancing a jig in joy for the fact that Theora was now single. With nothing more to say, she turned away from him and walked back to where Frances and Tina were sitting by the monitor.

"Hello," she greeted the two, and they said hello back as Theora sat down on the table next to Frances's seat and gazed down at her. She noted that though Frances had greeted her, her eyes were trained on the floor, and suddenly the urge to make up for her misgivings overcame her. Frances had had a pretty hard time of it when she was with MacPhisto, and it was completely of Theora to scorn her for that. She leaned over Frances, causing the latter woman to look up at her. "Wh- what do you want, Theora?"

"I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for the way I behaved yesterday," Theora told her softly. "I didn't mean to act so territorially. Your advice on MacPhisto was very much welcome, as is your presence here at Network 23."

Frances blinked, and Theora feared that she might break into tears again. Her eyes reflected a deep pool of anguish, as if she was afraid that Theora was being insincere.

"Thank you so much, Theora," she whispered. "But… I don't think I can forgive you yet for what you said. I'm really sorry. It's just that it's been one of my dreams to work at Network 23 with Edison Carter, and… and I never really factored another controller into the equation."

Looking upon Frances's tragic face, it hit Theora at once that Frances was exactly the type of woman who would gladly sleep with Edison if it furthered her career. Though she had despised being mistreated by MacPhisto, she would fling herself at Edison and let him walk all over her if he saw fit to do so, essentially romanticizing the abuse because it was at the hands of a man she loved. These observations were not made spitefully on Theora's part; rather, it merely occurred to her the reason behind Frances's presence at Network 23. She was in love with Edison, and Theora knew that Edison would never, ever reciprocate, because he wasn't the man that Frances made him out to be.

"It's fine," Theora said to Frances. "I understand if you're not ready to accept my apology. I find it hard to forgive myself."

Moments later, Bryce Lynch rushed into the room.

"Bryce!" Tina exclaimed, leaping from her seat in a display of forgetting her composed public self. Theora too would have gone to him, if she hadn't been so surprised by his facial expression. Normally Bryce wore the slack-jawed, bleary eyed face of a teenager who had been staring into a glowing screen for too long, or else he presented a mask of pretentious intelligence, looking down his nose at anyone who dared to undermine his genius. But now Bryce looked, for all intents and purposes, terrified. He came forward in a blind panic, not even seeming to notice Tina approaching until she halted in front of him. Then his eyes focused and latched onto her like a lifeline. "Tina…"

"Bryce, are you all right?" Tina asked, obviously from the tone of her voice just as spooked as he was by his own expression. "Did something happen to you upstairs?"

He shook his head rapidly. "Not to me. Guys, we've got a… situation."

Breaking away from Tina, Bryce stumbled over to the nearest window and motioned for the others to follow him. Collectively confused, Theora, Frances, Edison, and Tina all walked over to the window as well, where they stared down into the street below. What they saw left them gasping in shock.

All across the streets fanned a long patrol of what looked to be marching soliders, until one peered closer and realized these soldiers were mere children. Even from the distance, Theora could see that the children- the missing ACS students, only they appeared to have multiplied- were zoned out, their eyes locked only on what was right in front of them and their feet trained to march ever onwards- left, right, left, right. Leading them was a third man wearing the same blue uniform that Adam Clayton and David Edge had worn- Theora assumed this must be Larry Mullen. They showed no sign of stopping or resisting for anyone.

The sight would have been awful enough, and Theora couldn't turn her eyes away from it, had not an event occurred that shattered all hope in her heart. In the street across from the Network 23 skyscraper, a single man walked out the door of a nearby building, coming quite near the child soldiers. Without so much as a second thought, the nearest student to him trained his gun and took aim. The man slumped to the pavement on his knees, and then fell over as the rest of the army passed him by.

Blood trickled out and stained the ground, and the five observers were struck dumb, finding no words to describe what was going on. The revolution had begun.


	8. Chapter 8

Only minutes after Grossberg had been informed of an unusual disturbance in the streets outside Network 66 was the current TV program broken up with a crackle of static. Grossberg gasped, swiveling his entire body in the direction of the TV screen before him, and was transfixed by the sight of MacPhisto, reclining gloriously against the head board of a bed and smiling knowingly towards the camera.

"People of our city," he said. "Please do not be alarmed. My name is Mr. MacPhisto, and I know you like your pop stars to be exciting, so I bought these." The camera panned down to show his gold-sheathed legs stretched out in front of him, with the glittery boots that he was so eager to show off gleaming at the ends of them.

Frantically Grossberg tried changing the station- an unthinkable action as an executive, but desperate timed called for desperate measures- only to find MacPhisto plastered across the screen again. _He's on every channel._ The thought hit Grossberg like a ton of bricks. "How the hell did he _do_ that?!" It would require more technology than what was possible for the mind of one person to do.

"I am the inventor of Zoo TV," MacPhisto intoned drearily. "And I would like to talk to you about the past. I'm here because I miss the good old days- all the lights and the special effects! Ah yes, it certainly was quite a show back then. Rock and roll- everyone's into it these days. But now I am all alone." His face took on a haggard, weary look as he continued to speak. "Here I stand as the last pop star, the last man in Europe, when I used to be such a big thing. I used to be His most magnificent creation, the brightest star in His sky! But now look at me. Even the Evening Herald slags me off." MacPhisto took a dramatic sigh, and inside Grossberg was fuming, tension building up. Who had given MacPhisto the right to take control of every TV station and broadcast a kitschy performance piece?

Then his annoyance ended, to be replaced by cold horror as MacPhisto said, "As I cannot find anyone who will help me make peace with Him, I've turned the matter over into my own hands. If any of you good leaders of this city will answer me, I'd be much obliged to take over your job right this second. With MacPhisto in power, I can assure you I will restore things to as they were before, back when the trains ran on time!" For extra emphasis, MacPhisto gestured with his arm as he spoke, making big plans for the future. "However," he continued, his expression suddenly turning grave, "failure to meet my requirements may result in your death, whether it comes soon or late. I have stationed my army around the streets of this city. They are under strict orders to shoot any bystanders who dare to leave their building of residence. I'm afraid there's no way to escape.

"And now back to your regularly scheduled broadcasting." Just like that, the white smile had appeared on his face again, and the camera zoomed in so that MacPhisto's stunning blue irises filled up the entire screen. "That's all, folks! Off with the horns and on with the show!"

The screen dissolved back into the image of syndicated programming it had had before the broadcast had been hijacked, and Grossberg rose urgently from his seat. Distressed, he rushed to the nearest window and looked down on the streets, his spirits falling fast.

A child army from ACS! This must have been MacPhisto's ultimate goal all along. Not better ratings for Network 66, nor personal profit- no, this was cruel-hearted ambition, presented in the guise of a sadsack lounge singer who had long since past his prime. This was an event to strike terror into the hearts of anyone- and this was something Grossberg felt he was to blame for.

Two meetings were assembled at Network 23, one upstairs and one below. The executives argued and gnashed their teeth in anxiety around the long table, while Murray headed an informal conference in his office, which was now crammed full of worried network employees.

"We've got to stop them," had been the first statement out of Edison's mouth.

"But how?" Tina asked, wringing her hands. "You saw what they did to that poor man…"

"Everybody stay calm," was Murray's everlasting advice. "We'll figure out what to do if we all keep our heads and work together."

"I know someone out there," Bryce whispered, looking shaken. "Glitch Girl…"

"Why don't we wait for government orders?" someone asked. "They have to take evacuation methods."

"No use now," Edison said grimly. "Even in groups, it's hard to imagine they could make it out all together."

"What we need is a counter-army!" Frances burst out with, her voice fierce. "We need to beat MacPhisto back. We need to start a war!"

The TV was hijacked at that moment, and every stricken face turned owards it to watch MacPhisto brief everyone on his master plan for domination.

When the broadcast finished, there was silence. Then Murray, sensing that pandemonium was about to strike, dismissed his employees and told them to return to their workstations. "There's nothing we can do now but keep working. No one is to leave this building, under any circumstances. Just keep working and wait for higher orders, which everyone will act on." He then beckoned a few choice employees forward just before they exited. "Edison, Theora, Frances, Bryce. I need to talk to you."

Silently, Theora and Edison came forward, with Frances slinking behind, following Edison's footsteps. Tina and Bryce exchanged a look, and then Tina kissed his forehead and made her way out the door.

"Okay, gang," Murray said gravely as he surveyed the group in front of him. "We've got a situation going on that only you four can handle. Yes, even you," he said, glancing quickly at Frances's surprised expression. "The comment you made about starting a war is giving me ideas. No one would dare take out MacPhisto's army, would they?"

"Correct," Bryce murmured.

"They can't," added Theora. "They're just kids."

"But we're a huge network," Frances argued, and Theora wanted to cringe at the way she said _we-_ as if she believed her role here was permanent. "We've got to outnumber them. And we're older and wiser- they might have guns, but they might not know exactly how to use them."

"So we attack unarmed," came Edison's bitter voice. "And risk several valuable employees."

"Well, of course I mean it's not entirely safe to do so, but…" Frances backtracked, her face flushing.

Murray only watched the group stoically. "Bryce," he said. "Do you know what sort of effets the messages might have on normal citizens? I mean, MacPhisto was targeting ACS students all along, but he was broadcasting the exact same messages. Might other viewers have felt the same aggression along with a compulsion to watch more TV?"

"I… I don't know," Bryce answered honestly, rubbing his temples. "I wish I'd had more time to study the tape. But judging from Edison and Theora's reactions, it's likely other people did feel aggressive. Although the desire to watch TV probably balanced it out a bit. I'm not sure why the students were so strongly affected…"

"That means we'll get no help from our fellow citizens, at least the ones who watched Zoo TV constantly," Theora posited a theory. "They'll either be stuck watching TV indoors or sympathize with MacPhisto's cause."

"Or be scared out of their minds by the students of ACS," Edison said quietly. "Zoo TV is harmless fun, but _no one_ wants a battle to break out."

There was a brief silence as the full impact of the situation closed in on them- and then the viewphone beeped.

Murray took the call immediately, and the three network employees and one bystander crowded around to see what the news was. To their collective surprise, the face on the other end of the line belonged to none other than Blank Reg.

"Reg?" Edison blurted out, and gently pushed Murray aside to stare into his virtual eyes. Reg stared back from behind a screen, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Em, hey, Edison, it's me," he greeted the motley assortment. "I, eh, was wondering… have you got any idea what that lunatic MacPhisto was doing on my TV?"

Time seemed to speed up suddenly, and Edison said, "You know him?"

Blank Reg gave a shrug. "Not intimately, if that's what ya mean. He came to one of the bars in the Fringes and caused quite a ruckus. I had to help my mates kick 'im out. Anyway, I wanted to know if you could tell me anything more about this… situation, like."

"He's in charge of a popular program called Zoo TV," Bryce explained. "It contains subliminal messages that caused the students at ACS to essentially take on the identity of soldiers."

Reg scratched his head. "Zoo TV, eh? Old Mac was watching it when we kicked him out of the pub. Never made any sense to me, of course- I've got no idea what all those words say."

" _That's it!"_ Frances suddenly squeaked, and all eyes turned to look at her. She stepped forward, clearing the way so that Reg could see her better.

"Hello, Mr. Reg. I'm-"

"Just Reg, if you will," Reg corrected her. "Blank Reg if you're feeling formal."

"Blank Reg, then." Frances nodded. "All right. Blank Reg, I'm guessing you mean to say you can't read?"

He shook his head. "What a shame. Books were out of fashion before I decided I wanted to learn."

Frances gave him a funny look, but went on. "And how many Fringers out there do you think can't read either?"

"Oh, I don't know," Blank Reg replied. "A fair dozen, I'm certain. Blank Orville's been teaching the kids, but a lot of the parents still haven't learned." He looked over at Edison and winked. "I know I can say that in good company!"

"It's definitely more than a dozen," Murray said. "Fringers are the least educated members of our population."

Frances nodded, her mind deep in rapturous thought. Then she said to Reg, "Do you think, if you gathered together all the Fringers you know who aren't able to read, would you all outnumber every student from ACS?"

"What!" cried Theora, suddenly realizing where this was leading. Frances turned her head to look at her. "It's the only way, Theora! They won't be affected by Zoo TV at all. They can help stop this!"

"If you're looking for us to stop the army, you're asking the wrong questions," Reg said from the viewphone, a note of warning in his voice.

Frances turned to face him again. "Okay. How do you feel about hurting a child?"

"Wouldn't do it if you gave me all the money in the world," Reg replied instantly, in a steadfast tone. "But I'll tell you now, there are some of us out here who aren't so moral, so to speak."

This time it was Edison who responded, nodding from behind Frances. "We're not asking you to hurt the students," he said. "Only if absolutely necessary. They just need to be stopped."

"The fate of our city rests on you, Blank Reg," Frances said, which made Reg chuckle. "All right, I get it. Don't expect me to be fighting much out there, but I can ertainly round up enough folks who will."

"Okay," Frances said. "Thank you." And without any protests, she disconnected the line. Theora was left staring at her as she turned around, smiling and waiting for praise to fall on her.

"Well," she said smugly, and Theora couldn't believe the level of condescension that was dripping from her lips. "It looks like I just fixed a war to happen."

"But did we want it to happen?" Theora burst out, unable to contain her feelings any longer. She wished that beaming, lipstick-bright smile would be wiped off Frances's face. The fate of the entire city did not rest on Blank Reg; it had lain upon the shoulders of a virtually unknown and unimportant young woman.

There was a moment's hesitation while everyone sorted out their opinions, and then Murray said, "Looks like it's going to happen, Theora. We can't do anything about it except wait for Reg's counterattack."

"But we can't-"

"Hey, at least it's better than handing the city over to MacPhisto," Edison snapped suddenly, rounding on Theora. "Which there's no doubt our beloved leader is going to do."

Shocked into silence, Theora could only stare at Edison for a few moments before dropping her eyes to the floor. What was the point? Even though she was a respected network employee, she was also of a dissenting opinion, which apparently made her more worthless than Frances.

"It'll also make one hell of a story," Murray said. "When it's safe, you'll have to get down there and start filming, Edison. Imagine how high we'll jump in the ratings if we're the first to the scene."

For once, surprisingly, no one contradicted Murray or told him there was no time to think of the ratings in the face of danger. Edison only nodded. "Whatever you say." He went to the door, and Theora was suddenly overwhelmed with the impulse to follow him, to argue her point to him. But there was no use, because even she didn't have a better alternative. Still, the shame of losing to Frances burned across her skin when her eyes happened to slide her way.

Out on the streets, Adam Clayton met up with Larry Mullen, and they exchanged a civil handshake. "Paul- I mean, Mac didn't want you to stick around anymore, huh?" the latter said to the former. Adam just shrugged and turned around in the street, watching as one of the army children turned with cold indifference and shot the nearest bystander who was trying to slip pat them unnoticed. The sound of TV chatter filled the street.

"He said the army'd do better out here with two commanders. Reggie was tapped to stay with Mac, as a bodyguard he said, but you know how those two are."

Larry let out an inappropriate giggle. "Yeah, that's right. You better leave those two alone."

They lapsed into silence and surveyed the street before them, watching as a cloud passed over the weak afternoon sun. Standing all along in rows, the students of ACS- now the entire student body, all carrying weapons- waited and fidgeted for their chance at getting a good shot. One of the boys found a packet of cigarettes concealed in his ocket that he had swiped from MacPhisto's abode and tried to light up. The girl closest to him snickered as he fumbled ineptly with the cigarette and lighter, finally calling out to him as he accidently dropped it. "You've never even touched those before, have ya?"

"Shut up, Glitch!" he grumbled in return. "Like _you're_ a chain-smoker."

"Focus, everyone!" Larry's voice resounded across the square, projected by a megaphone while Adam looked on approvingly. "I know you're getting bored, but just look to the TVs. Watch. Your time will come soon."

The students obediently followed his word, glancing towards the outdoor TVs, which were naturally broadcasting Network 66. The nightly Zoo TV block wouldn't be on for another hour or so, but the army would be ready for when it did.

What they were definitely not ready for was the entrance of a new militia onto the streets.

Blank Reg and Dominique had gathered up every unaffected Fringer they could. They had informed them of MacPhisto's threat to the city, and explained how he had shown off at the pub a few days ago. The danger alone was enough to convince many of the Fingers, and they rushed off to collect whatever homemade weaons they owned, although Reg warned them not to badly hurt any of the children- "They're not really evil, they're just brainwashed." The plan was crudely simple. They were to take out the army, incapacitate them, but they were not to kill any. Once they were unconscious, the brainwashing was sure to wear off after a while, and the children could be returned to their respective families or to the school. The Blanks repeated these details fervently to themselves, hoping that collectively they would be enough to stop this oncoming danger.

Together the band of Fringers slunk off into the streets, and began the fight at the very first sight of child carrying guns. In no time the conflict spread across the whole city, and the folks at Network 23 were watching from behind their windows of glass.

"He's done it!" Murray gasped, whirling away as the rest of his team crowded around to tae in the gruesome view of the outside world. "Reg followed through. There's a battle going on!"

Theora approached the window more hesitantly than her fellow counterparts. She feared to see what exactly had escalated. Bloody visions of children dying in the streets filled her mind, so powerfully real to her that she nearly stayed away. But when Edison turned his head to look back at her, he beckoned her forward, and cleared a space for her beside him. Theora swallowed and joined him, pushing her mental images aside and taking a deep breath in preparation for the sight outside.

To her surprise, Fringers and students were not the only ones in the streets. Several average-looking civilians who had been holed up in buildings for one reason or another now attempted to flee the scene and get to safety amidst the uproar. Their running was pure foolishness, Theora could see, and yet they continued to try and leave. Naturally, many didn't make it that far, and Theora felt bile rising in her throat as the limp bodies crashed to the ground and blood spilled over the sidewalks. She turned away sharply, closing her eyes and pushing her fingers through her hair. Was fighting really the best solution anyone could come up with? How many lives would be extinguished today?

Then she heard Edison said, "I'm going out there," and felt the breeze of air as he passed her by.

Theora's eyes snapped open, and for a moment she could only gaze in horror at Edison as he approached Murray and requested use of the camera gun. Then she sprang forward, cursing her feet for moving so slowly, before finally getting close enough to touch Edison on the arm. "Edison! You can't go out there during this… this battle. I mean… for God's sake, look at you!" His face was impassive as she gestured to his wounded arm. "You're not in the right condition, Edison. You have to stay behind here."

"Like it or not, Network 23 does have to be the first on the scene," Murray spoke up, and for the first time Theora felt a deep hatred directed towards him stir in her soul. "No one else would even dare… and besides, we've been covering everything else that has to do with Zoo TV. It's only natural that-"

"But you can't send _him_ out there," Theora protested on behalf of Edison. "He's the best reporter we've got, Murray. He's- he's _Edison Carter._ Send someone else…"

 _Someone more expendable,_ her mind sang, but Theora wouldn't dare speak such a thought out loud. Instead she stared helplessly at Murray, who sighed and turned to Edison, wordlessly asking him to speak some sense into Theora. In return, Edison turned towards Theora and motioned as if he wanted to take her hand, before deciding against it. Theora's arms folded over her chest as a sudden chill came over her.

"I'm the only one at 23 who should be out in the field right now," he said. "This is our story, Theora, and no one else's."

"Story?" she scoffed. "I seem to recall you saying 'fuck the ratings' a while back."

He looked surprised to hear her use profanity, but Theora could tell from looking in his eyes that he wasn't going to back down. "Theora, it's not just about the story. In fact, the story is the least of my concerns. I need to be out there, to feel like I'm actually _helping_ these citizens. When was the last time any of our stories did that? I'm not going to mock the Devil anymore."

"But… Edison," Theora pressed, reaching out desperately for any angle that would convince him to remain in the safety of Network 23. She had moved past the point of mere argument and was now heading towards pleading territory. "It… it's very dangerous out there…"

At that, Edison gave a funny smirk which, under any other circumstance, would have made Theora grin back immediately. "We've been in danger before, haven't we? We've taken on pseudo-terrorists, a Blank mastermind, Alex DeLarge… There's no need to worry about me, Theora. I'll take care of myself."

Theora wanted to protest, but she knew not what to say. Words failed her tongue. Hadn't it been this way before- hadn't Kent walked away from her because she didn't know the magic words to secure him? And now Edison was leaving her because she couldn't lure him back, and on the same day that Kent had left too…

Once again Edison requested the camera gun, and Murray told him where he could find it. Then he instructed Theora to head over to the terminal. "We'll get a backup pilot to fly Edison down there." Catching her expression, which wasn't quite in control, Murray added, "He knows what he's doing, Theora. And he's all we have to rely on."

Theora didn't say anything, only nodded, because she felt her throat growing thick and heavy with unshed tears. Murray couldn't know exactly how much she did rely on Edison, how much she trusted him in the field. But not even her belief in him could get him safely out of a war. If Edison came to any harm, it would be Theora's fault for not convincing him to stay behind.

Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking as she switched on the monitor. _So unprofessional,_ Theora cursed at herself, at her body's reactions. _You've got to calm down._ She took a deep breath to steady herself, and did somehow manage to get her heart rate to slow, but when Edison called over the line, "You ready, Control?" her nerves returned in full force. She settled her fingers down hard on the keyboard.

"Ready, Edison," she replied. And once the helicopter took off, there was no going back.

This time watching though the eyes of Edison's camera was even more compelling and visceral than usual, and Theora's heart was in her throat from the moment he stepped out of the helicopter to the current moment of him hiding behind the nearest obstructions to shoot footage without being seen. "This is Edison Carter reporting live from Network 23!" he had cried, going live in only a matter of seconds while Theora stared, unable to look away from the screen. "The Fringers of the city and the missing students from the Academy of Computer Sciences have gone to war today." The rest of his utterances were lost among the noises of street fighting, of the Blanks' pained shouts as they were shot and of the children's shocked cries when they were caught. Theora couldn't tell who was winning; at one point it would appear to be the Fringers and then the students would gain an upper hand. To tell the truth, she didn't care one bit about the winner. All that mattered to her was Edison's security.

Though the scenes onscreen played out indifferently, factually, Theora felt it all happening as if she was there, as if she was the one holding the camera. She could taste the tang of blood in the air, feel the breath knocked out of her as if she was one of the students a strong Fringer ran into and scooped up, and even cringed when another student snuck up behind him and shot him in the back. A logical part of her mind was still guiding Edison, scoping out the area and taking him away from danger as much as she could, but she was surprised that she could even remain calm in this situation. Another part of her screamed to get Edison out of there. He couldn't get hurt, not on Theora's watch.

Fortunately, however, Edison stayed sensible and didn't make any rash moves. He hid from plain sight as best he could, even helped guide the wounded civilians to safe areas. Never once did he fire the camera gun. Slowly, a warm feeling began to settle in Theora's stomach, and she began to think that maybe Edison would make it out of the skirmish without a scratch on him.

Then an earshattering _kaboom_ blasted over the airwaves, and Theora's last sight was of smoke filling the air before- unthinkably!- the camera went dead.

 _The camera was dead._ The camera gun, which had been made for battle, was dead.

There'd been a bomb. It was the only logical explanation. A bomb or a grenade had gone off, and Edison had been standing right there. He was close enough for the camera to fail in its proximity.

"Oh my God." The phrase was gasped hurriedly from Theora's wretched lungs. She shot to her feet, seeing the world at once in sharp, bright clarity. "Oh my _God._ Edison…" Where was Murray? Her head whipped around frantically for him before giving up. Murray was nowhere to be seen, and Edison, the one he had sent into the field, was in danger. He was in _danger!_ He was in danger that Murray had led him into, that Theora hadn't been able to talk him out of…

Instead of trying to reestablish the video link, Theora did something she would not normally do- she panicked. She didn't even realize she had been running until Bryce's face came into view before her, and even then the words that came out of her mouth surprised her. "Bryce! I need you to cover for me over at the monitor!"

"Me take over your duties?" Bryce's eyes widened. "Where are you going?"

"Edison is in trouble," Theora replied in a clipped tone, harsher than the edge of a rusty razor blade. "I need…" She didn't even allow herself to finish before she had rushed out of the room and was pelting down the hallway, racing at full tilt towards the outside world and Edison's plight.

The coordinates from the map of the streets were burned, branded into Theora's brain. She knew exactly where Edison was. However, once she reached the open air obstacles began throwing themselves at her with almighty speed. Even so linked to Edison through his camera, the threats onscreen hadn't felt really real, and Theora could have just looked up to remind herself that she was safely inside Network 23. But now Theora felt she was running blind, dodging the Blanks and students who came equally after her. She joined a throng of terrified civilians fleeing for their lies, having been reduced to one pack mind under the threat. Miraculously, even as many were picked off, Theora remained unarmed and alive. Behind her, grenades were tossed and the pavement rattled, and Theora thanked her lucky stars that she made it out of the close shaves.

Edison, if he hadn't moved, should be located at the end of the block. A few abdandoned cars lay as empty shells in the street, and Theora hid behind one to scan the horizon. To her surprise, no one was coming towards her from the end of the block- the fighting had moved on. But a small crater in the middle of the road reminded her of the bomb that had gone off, and the sight of a figure stumble-running off in search of action stopped her heart's beating. Edison! It must be him; the camera gun was in his hands. Letting go of all of her inhibitions and instinct for self-preservation, Theora ran towards Edison, each breath a gasp pulled through aching lungs and each step taken on shaking feet. Still she would not back down.

"Ed- Edison!" He turned around at her weak cry, and an enormous surge of relief gushed through Theora at the sight of him. He wasn't hurt. There was some blood on him, probably the result of the stitches he had received at the medcen being opened up again, but nothing that looked fresh. Stunned, maybe, shocked- definitely, judging from his wide eyes and open mouth, but Edison was not dead or even close to it. Theora slowed her jolting pace to a walk, clearing the few steps necessary to reach him.

"Oh God, you're alive." The words were jerked from her , her chest heaving as she breathed. "I saw the bomb and thought-"

"Why are you here?" Edison demanded, reaching out to grab Theora's arm. He gave her a light shake. "It's dangerous! You shouldn't be here- you need to go back to Network 23!" The words were acidic scorn, and Theora ripped her arm from his grasp and backed away slowly, suddenly realizing what a rash thing she had done by coming down here. With Bryce's technological knowledge, the video link had probably been reestablished, which would have ensured that Edison was all right. Now Edison had the camera gun and Theora was defenseless. She had never felt more like a load, an unnecessary waste of space. There was no way now that she could part from Edison's side… but what if her hasty decision jeopardized both hers and Edison's safety _and_ the news broadcast.

"I'm sorry-" Theora began, unthinkingly taking another step back, but Edison shook his head angrily and went to her, wrapping his arm around her waist to guide her. "We need to keep going. Bryce!" he shouted to the camera. "It looks like the violence has died out around here. Take me back to the thick of it."

"With Theora?" came the faint reply. Edison glanced over at her, his blue eyes hardening. "Theora can wait here. The helicopter will pick her up." With that, he didn't wait for her approval before beginning to move, herding Theora towards the nearest building. Theora didn't protest; she deserved every consequence of her actions.

Just as they came towards the building, the door of which was hanging open, a small figure jumped out of the blackness within. It only took seconds to register that the person standing before them was young enough to be a student and, more importantly, brandished a gun. With a sneer, the student raised his weapon and fired point blank.

Suddenly the next seconds slowed and shortened, and Theora seemed to step back from her body and watch herself as she sprang in front of Edison, presenting her open body for all to see, even as Edison raised his gun too late. She watched as the bullet tore through her chest, blood dissolving into her black clothing, and she crumpled to her knees at Edison's feet, not even able to throw her arms out to catch herself as she fell to the pavement.

The camera gun fired and clattered to the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

People said that one's life flashed before one's eyes. In retrospect, Theora didn't see how she would have had time for that. She acted on instinct, was what she would tell everyone. There had been no room for thinking- she had stepped in the line of fire and paid for it.

At first the surrealness of it all had been all that took over her mind. Then the bullet had entered her chest, and blinding pain was all she felt. Theora slumped over, unable to concentrate on anything outside herself and her bleeding body. She didn't even hear the next shot over the galloping speed of her heart. It could have been hours, even days, before Edison's voice roused her.

"Oh my God. THEORA!" Sharp distress pierced his voice, but all Theora could think of was how glad she was that at least he was unharmed. Her ears zeroed in on the sound of someone whimpering nearby, but she couldn't pay attention to it for very long.

Someone's rough fingers latched onto hers, and Theora managed to wrench her eyes open to stare up at Edison, blinking hazily. It was hard to look at him for some reason, as if she was seeing everything through a dark film. Jumbled words filtered through her ears. "Theora, can you hear me? Can you feel me? Stay with me, Theora, please…"

 _It hurts,_ Theora tried to say, but her lips moved laxly and probably looked more like a nervous tremor to Edison than a reply. God, the pain was so bad. She wanted to sink within herself and never resurface.

At once she was airborne- Edison's strong arms were around her and under her, cradling her close to his chest. A small, detached part of her brain thought with horror that she was probably bleeding all over Edison, staining his clothing. The rest of her barely felt it as Edison moved her arm so that she was loosely clinging to his neck, supporting herself with limp limbs. Edison began to walk, to carry her out of danger, and as Theora faded in and out of consciousness she heard a vague stream of words spewing constantly from Edison's mouth.

"Why'd you come down here Theora look what you've gotten into do you have any idea I can't believe you would be so you're so much smarter than this oh God please stay awake don't do this to me don't-"

As the words choked off, Theora roused a bit from her dizziness to see that Edison was trying and clearly failing to hold back tears. His firmly-set jaw was quivering, like he was on the brink of sobbing at any moment. The detached part of Theora's brain resurfaced and informed her that Edison had left the camera gun behind on the street and now he was defenseless. Theora ignored the voice.

"HELP!" Edison suddenly cried out, and if Theora had been more alert it would have startled her. "Someone help us! Please!" But no one approached to help, and the call was swallowed up by the imposing gray buildings. Edison had been reduced from a fabulous TV reporter to another mere civilian fighting for his life. Nobody within the buildings stepped forward to help.

It was then that Theora's consciousness lapsed for a bit, and the next thing she was concerned with was a familiar snarling voice. "How d'you know for _sure_ she's not dead?"

Edison's voice sounded, desperate and angry- "Becaue she's still _breathing,_ for God's sake." (This raised a small alert in Theora; she hadn't been aware that she was still breathing.) "Just drive us to the hospital."

Theora wanted to open her eyes and see who Edison was talking to, but it felt as if heavy weights had descended on her eyelids. She was dimly aware of her body being moved from the outside to the in and set down on a hard, flat surface.

"Oh God, would you look at that?" Edison's voice called from somewhere very close to Theora, each word dripping with disgust. "These people aren't dead either, Breughal! You can't just sell bodies that are still warm!"

"Have it your way, mate," the voice, now identified as the Body Banks' most loyal employee, aquiesed gruffly. "Personally that's my favorite way to serve 'em." The voices faded out into the distance as Theora slowly mentally slid away. She heard Edison say "It's a good thing we're going to the hospital anyway," and felt his fingers squeeze her hand. Then the blackness completely engulfed her.

"She did _WHAT?"_

"I don't know!" Bryce cried, wanting to lunge back from Murray's attack but also not daring to leave his seat. "She just told me that Edison was in trouble. Next thing I know she's out there with him and the camera's gone dead! Someone must have turned it off." He fiddled with the controls and sighed while Murray looked ready to explode with anger and fear.

"Well that's just great. Now we've lost our only man out there and our best controller is wounded." He swallowed, not wanting to think about the implications of that, and rushed on. "We can't send anyone else out- it's far too dangerous!"

"Ex-excuse me," blurted a voice from the screen. "I be-believe I can be of assis-assis-assistance?"

The two spu around to find Max Headroom staring out at them, his expression inquisitive, open, inviting. Murray nearly told him to get lost, but Bryce saw the usefulness of Max before he could say a word. "That's it!" He snapped his figers and got to his feet, glancing over towards the window. "Max, how would you feel about finishing up Edison's coverage?"

"What?!" blurted Murray again.

Max beamed. "Well, sure-sure-sure! About time for you to include li-li-little ol' me." With Bryce's instructions, he entered the TV set closest to the nearest window and, with the help from some stronger men under the direction of Bryce, was placed on the sill and held there carefully in lace. Bryce smiled. The view from the window was great- bird's eye vision of the fighting in the streets. He raced back to the monitor, established the link, and all was set up.

"This is M-M-M-Max Headroom filling in for Ed-Ed-Edison Carter at from Network-N-Network-Network 23," Max announced to the world. His two-dimensional eyes swept over the horizon down below, and a rare frown filled his expression. "The fighting is s-s-still going on, f-f-olks, and boy, it's a doo-doo-doozy…"

A doctor would later inform her she was lucky to be alive. "The bullet narrowly missed the heart," he said, tracing the image of the bullet's path of destruction on her initial X-rays. "It splintered one of your ribs and tore quite a lot of tissue, but otherwise you're unharmed. Nothing a little surgery, a lot of rest, and a bit of physical therapy doesn't fix."

It had looked dire there for a moment or two, she would also be told, as when she had arrived at the hospital she had been quickly losing blood along with her consciousness. Some had wanted to tend to the other patients first, but it was Edison who had specifically insisted Theora receive treatment first. He had overseen the handling of all patients that Brueghal and Mahler had swept up, making sure each one was seen by a doctor, but it ws only Theora whom he visited repeatedly, even when told she was under the knife. He'd waited persistently outside the room where they performed her surgery, staying there until she was in the clear and relocated to another area. It was only Murray's arrival and insistence that he would take over from here that finally sent Edison home in the end. And since that day Theora hadn't had any sight of him.

The first one to visit her was Murray, while she was still woozy from the pain medicine and the aftereffects of surgery. His disembodied voice floated around her, enveloping her, and he spoke to her as if she was dead. "Theora, if you can hear me, I'd like you to know that I'm facing my fear of hospitals just for you… kind of like that one time. Uh. Anyway, the battle's all over now. A few of the kids were killed, but the majority of them are fine, if a little traumatized. There are Fringer bodies in the street…. It's a terrible sight. Um, I don't know if you remember, but Edison brought you here. You've been shot… and, uh, when you're awake we have a few things to discuss."

Later, when Theora was more stable and awake, the news came floating to her in bits and pieces. _Network 66 being sued. MacPhisto tried on You The Jury. Shell-shocked students still recovering. A mass Fringer funeral._ She ate hospital food and recovered slowly, and eventually people stopped by to see her. Network employees, her brother Shawn and his wife Winnie… When Shawn first saw her, he demanded to know, in a temper that masked his fear, why in the world she would have gone down there and done such a stupid thing as get herself shot. Theora just shrugged, not having a definite answer, and admitted the one thing she knew about the situation- "I don't know."She truly had no idea why she had rushed down there in a hurry, other than the assumption that Edison needed her. And why he would need her was yet another mystery, unable to be solved.

It was a day or two later that the door to Theora's hospital room opened, and she tore herself away from the TV just in time to see Edison as he stepped through the door, a careful grin on his face. As soon as he saw her staring back, his whole body seemed to relax, and his grin grew over wider as he crossed the floor over to her. Theora couldn't keep herself from smiling back as Edison gestured to her and asked, "How's your head?"

"Fine," Theora answered. "How's yours?" They both exchanged a smile in remembrance of the day they had first met, when Edison was the one recovering in bed. Edison pulled up a chair and sat, and reached towards the lever mechanism on Theora's bed. He hesitated for a second- "You don't mind?" Theora shook her head, and winced a bit as Edison maneuvered the lever until she was in a sitting position in bed. Now they could see each other eye to eye as equals.

Edison was, again, the first to speak. "How've you been doing out here?"

"I'm getting better every day," Theora answered. "I haven't gotten out of bed yet, but the doctors say the recovery could take a week or so. I've got plenty of time."

"That's good," Edison murmured. His eyes flitted over her body, zeroing in on the place where a bandage was wrapped over her chest beneath her hospital gown. Theora wondered if he was thinking of the sacrifice she had made for him, and if he was about to ask the same question regarding it that everyone did.

"How's news back at 23?" Theora asked to get a conversation started again. Her coworkers that had visited her had been quick to fill her in on any details regarding MacPhisto and Zoo TV and Network 66 and ACS, but they hadn't provided her with any human details of their fellow workers whom Theora still hadn't seen.

Edison shrugged, his gaze finally landing on Theora's fine eyes. She could tell by his casual expression that this was not a subject that interested him. "Everyone's fine, for the most part. We all miss you immensely. Actually-" his head turned halfway towards the door- "I came here with Bryce and Tina, but they're waiting outside. I wanted to talk to you alone first."

Theora was about to tell Edison that it wasn't fair to leave Bryce and Tina outside and she would like to see them just as much as Edison, but the words died in her throat. There was only one reason why Edison might want to speak to her alone, at least after what she had done during the battle. He wanted to ask that question just like everyone else, and this Theora didn't know how she would answer. It was easier to brush the event off with her coworkers and family, but with Edison present, a whole new conflict of emotions was stirred up within her.

"Max finished coverage of the battle when we were at the hospital," Edison said as a clumsy precursor to the conversation that Theora knew was coming. She nodded. "I know. I heard about it on TV."

"Did you see MacPhisto's trial?" Edison asked. "He's doing life in the State Jail right now."

Again Theora nodded. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

They sat in silence, occasionally broken by information Edison was eager to tell Theora. The students at ACS had been traumatized from their experience with killing and had been sent home to their respective families on a rare summer holiday. Frances McMillan had gone missing. At this Theora perked up her ears. "What happened?"

"No one knows," Edison said. "At least no one at Network 23 does. The last anyone saw of Frances, she was leaving the building after the battle. She never contacted any of us again. And you know she's a Blank, so we can't find her in the database. I hope she's all right."

"Yeah," Theora mumbled, her mind turning. "Hope she's all right." She could quite clearly picture Frances watching anxiously over Bryce's shoulder as Edison met Theora on the street. She could see the shocked expression on Frances's face when Theora threw herself in front of Edison to protect him, and she could practically feel herself the turmoil rising in Frances after the battle as she rushed out the door, determined never again to return to Network 23. Had she seen Theora's actions and realized she would never have a chance with the man she admired?

Another lapse of silence filled the air as Theora puzzled all this out, and then she looked over at Edison, almost begging him to ask it. He did. "Theora, why… why did you abandon your job to save me?"

The weight of the question slammed into Theora, pressing her back against the wall, and she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "I… I don't know," were the first words to slip out her mouth, automatically, unthinkingly. Then she realized what she had said, and shook her head quickly, opening her eyes. "That's not what I meant to say. I mean…" Edison's blue eyes were boring into her, and it was hard to think straight, to sort the muddled emotions inside her into coherent thoughts. Why _had_ she done it after all?

"I saw the bomb go off in the street," she began. "I thought you were injured. I thought you were…" _Dead,_ her mind supplied, but Theora didn't let the word escape her lips. She took in another deep breath. "I'm sorry for worrying everybody, Edison. It's just… I had to go to you. I had to make sure you were all right."

She had never been more vulnerable with him, admitting her strongest emotions like that. Edison only looked on, his expression unreadable as always. Theora guessed that he was still upset by her actions.

"You could have been killed." Even though he said it, the statement held no barbs. It was spoken in a surprisingly gentle tone, and Theora managed not to look away.

" _You_ could have been killed." The sudden surge of confidence that Theora accessed baffled her for a second. "I did what anyone would have done. It was you or me, and…"

 _And you were more important?_ No, that wasn't true. They were equally important, skilled in different fields and possessing different assets, but still they stood on equal footing.

Edison watched Theora for a second or two, and then he slowly reached out to push a strand of her thick hair back from her face. A flood of warmth went through Theora as his fingers brushed her cheek.

"I know I yelled at you," he said, and seemed to regret it, on the verge of cringing as he spoke. "I'm sorry. I still think it was foolish for you to leave Network 23, but there's no getting around it. You saved my life, Theora. That's the bravest thing I've ever seen you do."

Slowly, he leaned in towards her, and Theora yielded at once, closing her eyes and feeling his warm breath stir her hair as he came close. Their lips met softly and pressed against each other for a brief moment before Edison pulled away.

 _He has to know._ Gradually Theora's eyes opened, peering out at a beaming Edison. _I told him about Kent…_ Or rather she had implied that Kent had left her. He must have remembered the fact, even after all this strife. He was still gunning for her, and in fact had been from the moment they first met.

Edison wanted Theora. And Theora wanted Edison.

Over the two years spent working together, Theora and Edison had established a close connection, an inevitable bond of friendship. Being linked to Edison while he was in the field brought Theora an insurmountable amount of joy. She relished the times they spent together in person, interacting easily without a care in the world. And of course there were the several failed kisses they had almost shared, each time interrupted by a Blank, Murray, a boyfriend… Theora had only protested when she was tied down to a relationship, but at once the memories of her past beaux melted away like snowflakes in the summer. Could any of them really hold a candle to Edison? No- they all seemed like mere distractions now that she thought back on them, pale images made in the likeness of one human. Theora knew that eventually she would need to talk to Kent and at least clear the air before they officially parted, but it hardly mattered to her now.

She let a smile fill her entire face, and reached out to clasp her hands behind Edison's neck. He leaned in and they kissed again, their mouths molding to each other as if they could fit with no one else.

 _I love you._ The words were on her lips as they broke apart once more, and Theora nearly said them before catching herself. She didn't want to do with Edison what her past boyfriends had done to her. She just wanted to enjoy his company.

Edison sighed, and Theora could nearly see the weight of his burning attraction slip off his shoulders, emptying itself onto the floor. "What are we going to do?" he said. "Murray's going to chew you out when you get back to work for leaving your station. You might… you might lose your job."

"It's fine," Theora tried to soothe Edison, not liking the sudden sadness that had filled his eyes. She reached over and took his hand, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. "We'll work something out. I'm not letting them send me back to World One, anyway."

He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing each finger gently. "That's what I like about you, Theora. You won't back down to anyone."

"And that's what I like about _you,"_ Theora laughed. She hardly needed the invitation as Edison, still clutching her hand, leaned forward. She stretched and they kissed one last time, bumping their noses awkwardly, and came away giggling. Then the doorknob turned, and Edison and Theora were startled apart as Bryce Lynch walked into the room.

"Sorry, I got fidgety," he explained. "These hospitals are uncomfortable. Hey Theora!" He dashed forward happily, only pausing to set a bouquet of plastic flowers in a glass on the bedside table before leaning over and hugging her around the shoulders. "I brought you some flowers. I tried to get some real ones from that eco group Edison did a story on, but they weren't in bloom yet." Stepping back, Bryce looked Theora over, taking in her entire appearance. "How are you?"

"Where's Tina?" Edison asked. Bryce glanced at him. "Tina?"

"Tina Wilson," Edison elaborated in mocking tones. "You know, your girlfriend… the one you arrived here with?"

"I'm not familiar with any Tina Wilson," Bryce said calmly, and Edison and Theora stared. Had Bryce lost his mind?

"Please tell me you're joking," Edison said, and with that Bryce's face broke out into a beautiful grin. "No, I'm not. Tina Wilson I haven't heard of. Tina Lynch, on the other hand…"

At that, the newly hitched Tina Lynch walked into the room, and the light seeping in through the windows bounced off her left hand and made the ring on it sparkle. Theora and Edison's gazes were instantly fastened to the happy couple as Tina crossed the floor and bent down to kiss Bryce, nuzzling his nose with hers.

"Well…" Edison began, searching for words. "Now I've seen _everything."_

Theora began to laugh, ignoring the bursts of pain that her wound sent stabbing throughout her body, and suddenly everyone began talking all at once. She stretched out on the bed and soaked it up.

Once Theora was deemed healed enough to resume her work at Network 23, she entered the familiar building with a mixture of nervous dread and apprehension. Truth be told, she didn't know if there was any work at Network 23 to resume. The last time she had left Edison alone in the field with another controller, Murray had been angry enough to fire her. He'd softened up on her recently, but this instance was far more serious than the one before it had been. There had been a battle going on, and Theora had left Bryce in charge. If Bryce had made any wrong move, Edison could be dead at this moment.

But then again, if Theora hadn't been down there Edison would be dead anyway.

To her deepest embarrassment, Theora's coworkers burst into applause as she walked through the door. She was the only network employee who had suffered the effects of the battle firsthand. Smiling graciously and trying to ignore the stares, Theora made her way over to her terminal and looked around for Edison. That was when she spied him and Murray poking their heads out behind the door to Murray's office, scanning for her. When they caught sight of her, Edison broke into a big smile, but Murray just nodded towards her, summoning her forth. Theora took a deep breath and walked forward, stopping just before the door. Edison took her hand, and together they turned to face Murray and the wrath that Theora had incurred.

However, he only nodded to her some more, barely glancing at Edison's hand in hers. "It's good to have you back, Theora. Good to see you've recovered."

"Thank you, Murray," Theora replied, and waited to see if he had anything more to say. Murray sighed and looked from one face to the other, gathering up the courage to say what he must.

"Cheviot has called for an audience upstairs with both of you. You'd better get going."

Surprised, Theora let go of Edison's hand and stepped back. "On my way." She turned and waited for Edison to follow her before going out into the hall and making her way towards the elevator.

The very top floor of Network 23 was a place Theora had never been. Edison had to show her into the board room. Inside, a group of people huddled around a vast TV screen lifted their faces in acknowledgement of her presence. Theora felt a chill go through her. These were faces she had never seen in person, but recognized from viewphone screens. This was Ben Cheviot, the head of Network 23. This was Lauren, this was Ashwell, this was Edwards…

"Edison Carter," Cheviot called out. "Theora Jones. It's great to have you here."

The board repeated the statement so that it rippled across the room, and Theora dipped her head in response. "It's great to finally meet you in person, sir." She came forward and offered her hand, which Cheviot shook.

"You're looking well," he said. "If I might be so frank, I must admit we weren't all expecting you to make it."

"I was!" blurted Ashwell. "I had complete faith in you, Miss Jones."

"Yes, thank you, Ashwell," Cheviot muttered, and a titter went up through the room, laughter that Theora longed to join in but didn't for fear of seeming rude. She looked over at Edison and saw that he too found the statement humorous- even though she knew he had felt the exact same way.

"So," Cheviot said, clasping his hands together. "Let's get down to business. You both understand why you're here?"

Neither Theora nor Edison said anything, and then Edison ventured, "To congratulate us." Theora knew he didn't truly think so, but he didn't want to state the real reason.

"That's one reason," Cheviot hedged. "I never got the chance to do it in person. Thanks to you, Carter, our channel is back at number one in the ratings, where it should be." There was an appreciative mumble, and Edison nodded. "You're welcome, sir."

"I've already congratulated your counterpart, Max Headroom, for doing his job," Cheviot continued. "And even rewarded him- but let's not get into that just yet."

"Oh God," Edison blurted. "You didn't inflate his ego any more, did you?"

"I'll let him inform you himself," Cheviot said. He steepled his fingers, and the whole board room looked to attention. "Until then, there's a more pressing matter that we must dicuss. Miss Jones, I understand you left your workstation during the- the battle."

"That's right, sir," Theora answered. "I did." She felt her pulse begin to rise, and tried to combat it by taking even breaths. Could this be it- the end of the road, after all she had done for Network 23?

"Can you explain your reasons why you put yourself and your reporter in danger?" Cheviot asked the eternal question. "If you cannot sufficiently explain yourself, I'm afraid it could be grounds for firing you. Bryce Lynch handled his job as a controller exceptionally well, but that doesn't make up for your deliberate defiance of Network 23's rules."

Theora breathed deeply and tried not to fidget. Her reasons, which had worked so well when she explained them to Edison, suddenly fell to dust in the presence of her network's head. Could she admit to this man the depth of her emotion towards Edison- how she had been compelled to save him? Wouldn't that be even more reason for her to leave Network 23?

Then Edison slipped his hand into hers, and when Theora looked up she saw that his eyes were shining with faith. Not just any faith, but faith in Theora. He completely trusted her to defend herself, to stand up to these middle-aged men without a fear in the world.

And so, calmly, Theora faced Cheviot and told him her story. She explained in the carefullest words that her anxiety for Edison had been too great to ignore, and she had to go to him while he was in the field. She had known full well that she would face severe repercussions for it later, but saving Edison's life had been worth it.

"If I hadn't jumped in front of Edison at the last moment, he might be dead right now. Instead, you got a badly injured controller, who's now returned to full health. Your pet reporter escaped with barely a scratch on him. I know how highly you rate Edison among his peers, and believe me, sir, I feel exactly the same way. Edison is in a league of his own. He's not expendable. Therefore, I don't regret what I did in the least, even-" Theora swallowed, wet her lips. "Even if you see fit to fire me."

There was a brief silence as the board members absorbed her words, and then Edison spoke up. When Theora looked over at him, she saw that there was flame burning under the cool blue ocean of his eyes, familiar determination written across his face.

"When I asked Theora the same question that you've just posed to her, she gave me a profound response," he declared. "She told me that it was either me or her who was injured in the field. Sir, I'm suggesting that we turn the table around. No longer is it Theora versus myself. We're now, so to speak, a package deal. If you decide to let her go, I won't work with another controller."

Even under stress, a shocked admiration filled Theora as Edison looked over at her, squaring his shoulders. _He put his career on the line for me!_ She was both touched and flustered at the same time. Surely Cheviot wouldn't dare to risk losing Network 23's best reporter, even if he believed Edison was bluffing.

They stood together, holding hands, and Theora watched as Cheviot slid his eyeglasses onto his nose and stared down at the two employees. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but Cheviot's eyes appeared to linger on their joined hands, linked physically now instead of simply by video. Her years of reading people's body language told Theora exactly what he was thinking. Cheviot didn't quite believe that Edison would walk away from his job just like that, and was concerned that having a controller who was emotionally involved with her reporter would lead to more shameful incidents such as what had happened on the street during the battle. It was too hard to decipher the rest of his thoughts from his expression. Theora controlled her expression and gave Edison's hand a squeeze, and she swore she saw Cheviot narrow his eyes in response.

"You'd really leave us, Carter? After all the work you've done for us?"

He spoke scathingly, so that even Theora was astonished. It was one thing to talk about one's superiors outside of their hearing- it was another thing to use the same tone with a network executive. "I can quit and I will if you let Theora go. I do my job here in order to expose the injustice of the world, and I've been feeling for a while now that I'm not doing anything useful. As a Blank with reporting experience, living with the best controller in the country-" He turned to wink at Theora, who tried not to blush- "I'll be able to do more than I ever have before."

A pregnant pause met his words, and then Cheviot nodded. "Very well. Miss Jones, you get to keep your job here at Network 23. Just don't run off in pursuit of your… reporter again."

Relief choked Theora so that it was nigh impossible for her to reply, "Thank you, sir."

Outside of the board room, Theora spun around so that she was facing Edison, grinning helplessly from ear to ear. Edison shared in the glory of winning, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. "Now that," he said, "was the _second-_ bravest thing I've ever seen you do."

"Are you joking?" Theora laughed, prodding him in the side. "Your speech was what swayed his favor. You were just as brave as I was." Suddenly Edison had pulled her in and they were clinging to each other in a tight, warm embrace, and Theora was enveloped by his body and breathing in the scent of his skin and her hands were tangling into his hair and all that she knew was surrounded by Edison. He pressed his lips to her forehead, seeming to enjoy the contact just as much, and the thought occurred to Theora- why had she ever doubted that they were made for each other?


	10. Chapter 10

It took an invitation to tea for two at Theora's apartment to get them to this point. Tea had eventually turned into a slowdance, which became the perfect excuse to kiss, and finally they landed somewhere among the smooth sheets of Theora's bed. Hands tore clumsily at clothing, slipping beneath to slide along each other's soft skin. Their bodies collided and their kisses became rough enough to bruise. Words were spoken- "Are you sure I'm not going to hurt you?" Edison asked, briefly removing his lips from Theora's breasts.

"I don't know," Theora whispered into his neck. "I didn't ask the doctor about this. If it hurts I'll tell you to stop."

Edison nodded and skimmed his mouth back up from Theora's chest to her collarbone to her neck and finally to her lips. When he pulled away, it was Theora's turn to pose a question. "Are you sure you're not going to leave me in the morning?"

"What?" Edison was taken by surprise. "I- what?" He reached out to press the palm of his hand to Theora's cheek. "Theora, I would never- what are you talking about?"

"Are you sure you don't just want to have sex with me and leave me behind?" Theora asked, the words coming out more bitterly than she had expected them to. Though the kisses and embraces they had exchanged since that day in the hospital had seemed genuine, there was always the constant fear hovering in Theora's mind that any man who showed an interest in her only wanted to use her.

Slowly, Edison began to shake his head, his hand slipping around to the back of Theora's neck. He drew her in close towards him so that their foreheads were pressed together and they were looking each other straight in the eye. "Theora, I would never do that to you. My interest may have been only sexual at first, but- but I feel a great deal of affection for you right now, and have for some time. I'm not going to use you like a one-night stand."

"So there'll be more of these nights to come?" Theora breathed, and Edison gave a funny shrug. "If you want." Though his attitude was blasé, Theora knew with all her heart that Edison wanted it just as badly as she did. She smiled with satisfaction and sunk closer to him, easily bridging the gap between their lips.

Suddenly a loud, intrusive voice rang out, and Theora and Edison broke apart in fright. "Yoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! Edison! I came to your apart-part-partment but you were- ah! Ah-ah-ah!" Max let out a theatrically loud gasp from his spot inside the TV. "Someone's a ver-ve-ve-very naughty b-boy!"

" _Shit!"_ Edison blurted, leaping out of bed at once. "I forgot-" He made a dash for the TV and threw the flap down over it, while Max's demonic voice continued to boom out across the room, sounding amused. "I have some new-ew-ews to share with you t-t-two! You're going to l-love it, p-p-people- I'm getting my own show!"

"For real?" Theora blurted, sidetracked from her own pleasure by Max's claim. Edison stared back and forth between her and his cyber twin, hidden carefully beneath the screen.

"Yes-yes-yes," Max beamed. "It's called _The M-M-Max T-Talking Headroom Show-sh-Show,_ and it's starring _moi! Moi!_ Ch-Ch-Cheviot was very p-pleased with my, shall we say, sp-sportmanship during the battle! He thought I deserved-"

"A reward," Edison filled in bleakly. He dropped to the bed, and Theora scooted over to make room for him. "Well, that's great news, Max, but I'm kind of in the middle of something." Theora had to physically restrain herself from giggling.

"Oh r-really?" Max countered. "What could be more impor-portant than-"

"That's enough," Edison cut in, punching a button on the nearby remote control. Instantly the air filled with the melodramatic voice of a late night soap star, and Edison returned to Theora's side. "Now, where were we…"

That night was the best night of lovemaking for Theora by far, and this time she knew the name she called was correct.


End file.
